


Word Forward

by afrocurl



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Charles You Will Be Drunk, Elections, Emma Will Have None of Your Bullshit, Emotionally Crippled Erik Is Fun To Read, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, M/M, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 22:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/pseuds/afrocurl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Impassioned Mutant Rights Advocate Erik Lehnsherr will not stand to watch William Stryker Jr ruin the United States as President. Little does Erik know that as he runs for President, he'll meet a newspaper reporter who will change his focus and desire.</p><p>AKA X-Men meets Sorkin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Word Forward

**Author's Note:**

> This would not have been possible without the discussion and time with **maichan**. Please, please look at what [she made for this](http://maichan.livejournal.com/96245.html) (maichan didn't renew the domain, so if you still want to look at the site, go [here](http://66.39.30.134/lehnsherr/index.php)). It’s incredible! I’m so grateful that she agreed to make something like this for the idea of a political AU and even more grateful of our secret shame hidden in plain sight. M, it’s been a fun ride with you here and thank you for all the work and time you took into this. This Big Bang has been fun! Seriously, if you're not looking around the site, please just click [here](http://66.39.30.134/lehnsherr/facebook.html) and [here](http://66.39.30.134/lehnsherr/twitter.html) to see Erik's facebook page and twitter feed. We both love them far too much for people not to see them.
> 
> My love and respect also go out to **etharei** , **ninemoons42** and **starxd-sparrow** for their beta work throughout the whole thing.
> 
> For the sake of this whole universe, it combines elements from various Sorkin shows, mostly relying on _The Newsroom_ and _The West Wing_. Their roles are similar if not exactly comparable to the end of both show’s canons as of now (no S2 spoilers for _The Newsroom_ are here). The plot for part of this is also centered from _The American President_ , but not entirely.

“The rise of Mutant Activism since the late twentieth century shook up the political process in the US. We can no longer classify ourselves as liberal or conservative, but as pro- or anti-mutant. Typically, liberals will also be pro-mutant, though not always. It is unclear how this will change voting patterns, but there is no doubt that something must change in the upcoming election cycles, or else we’ll be faced with an electoral system that is unresponsive to the will of the people.” 

Toby Ziegler - Former White House Communications Director and Professor of Law at Columbia University, on _The Newsroom_ July 24, 2008

-

_August 1, 2008_

“Fuckin’ hell!”

“Erik, if you’re going to yell at the politicians, what did I say about doing it in a constructive manner?” Emma said, idly picking at her desk in the nearly empty storefront. He had forced everyone else to leave the office as soon as the advance copy of William Stryker’s revised stump speech hit his desk.

“Fuck that, Emma,” he yelled back, trying to suppress the urge to take all the metal in the space and fling it across the street in that idiot Stryker’s direction. He hated Styrker with a passion that was only matched by his conviction that Jason Wyngarde’s position was chickenshit and did nothing to _actually_ advocate for mutant rights. Even if Wyngarde was a mutant, he was just as inept at mutant rights issues as non-mutants: laws were passed, all right, but they were toothless laws passed that still kept mutants as a subject class, still lower than non-mutants in the country.

“I can feel you wanting to engage in some creative destruction, and it won’t help us. You know that. Sit back, ask the question at the next town hall and just don’t break anything now. The insurance to cover this with you here is astronomical, and I’m not made entirely of money - and neither is the Coalition,” she added, voice much calmer than his, even though it carried from the opposite side of the large space.

“Don’t mention that policy again, Emma, if you want to keep that _farkatke_ deposit. That’s just part of the problem, don’t you see? Why the hell do we, as mutants, need to pay additional deposits to rent a space? It’s subjugation in the 21st century.”

“I’m sure that the struggle for racial equality will seem like nothing now, Erik darling.”

“Stop using history to make your point, Emma. It doesn’t look good on you. Plus, I know the history, and unlike racial equality, our subjugation is only because we _can_ do different things.”

“History is all that’s keeping you from being the ‘crazy mutant guy’ in every article about the campaign, sugar. Remember that.”

“I didn’t hire you to tell me the truth. I hired you to help shape my image as an activist.”

“I’m doing that by not having you sound like a crazy man who can’t tell the difference between struggles for racial equality and mutant equality. There is a difference and if you want support from those who consider themselves liberal, you need to differentiate between mutant rights and the racial equality struggle from the 1950s and 1960s.”

Erik groused, “I hate it when you’re right.”

“No you don’t,” Emma replied. “You love it because it saves you from being yelled at by Ainsley Hayes and anyone else who serves as a talking head for Fox News these days.”

Erik grumbled again. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll yell at Stryker at the town hall. What else do we have planned for the day? I don’t see anything on my schedule.”

“That's because you're supposed to be crafting arguments against Stryker for the rest of the day with the staff. You told them to take a long lunch before you blew up the office.”

“We’ll get them back. You’re the one who told me not to get angry with the staff around.”

“But I said that so you _wouldn’t_ get angry around the staff at all.”

“Just get the staff back here so we can find ways to deconstruct Stryker’s campaign. I feel like finding a placard with Stryker 2008 and putting knives through it.”

“Do that when the staff have gone home, please. Or before they get back and you can hide the evidence,” she said before Erik knew she was mentally calling back the entire office.

-

“As Election Day draws near, it is clear that the support for President Wyngarde is firming up. I can’t tell exactly what in his policies will help him succeed where others have failed so far with regards to mutant rights, but that doesn’t seem to matter to the electorate at this point in time. His failed attempts to keep the Mutant Registration Act from a floor vote constitute just one example of his inability to protect our rights. Our positions. His support by mutants is won by his status as a mutant and nothing more. 

“If we want more change, and _real_ change, we must do better. We _can_ do better.” 

Erik Lehnsherr, during a Mutant Rights Coalition fundraiser October 15th, 2008.

-

_November, 4, 2008_

Even at the gala for the Mutant Rights Coalition, Erik’s mood was worse than usual. He truly disliked President Wyngarde on a personal level, and that could not temper Erik’s disapproval at the outcome of the election, despite the outward appearance that a mutant President was good for the mutant cause.

President Wyngarde was headed for another term. William Stryker Jr., at least, would not be in office to take back the small gains that Wyngarde had made in four years. Mutants, and all of America, would be saved from a president who stood for hatred: hatred of anyone who was not rich, caucasian and heterosexual. For that, at least, Erik was grateful.

Though Erik could not tell which of the two evils was better--the mutant who did little to advance the whole group, or the human who fomented hatred with every speech. Fine, there was a mutant in the White House. But he was a mutant who had little regard for improving conditions for most mutants, outside of those who spent millions of dollars supporting the campaign. To the hundreds of thousands of mutants who were depending on the MRC, Wyngarde was just as awful as Stryker, even if Wyngarde was less obvious in his preferences.

Erik gulped down the rest of his Scotch at the bar where he had positioned himself to avoid having to talk about how much he was looking forward to another four years of a Wyngarde presidency. Most of the people in the room already knew how he opposed the idea of a second Wyngarde presidency, no matter if he was a mutant who would not support a fellow mutant running for office.

Emma walked towards him, dressed in a long snow white gown with sequins that dotted the neckline and then cascaded towards the bottom, enveloping the bottom in a bevy of sparkles that perfectly matched her earrings. “You look horrible.”

“I am horrible. Wyngarde won again. We’re stuck with a limp-dicked, sitting duck mutant president who doesn’t care for most of his constituency.”

“Will you keep your voice down?” she urged. “You’ll scare off the donors.”

“Our donors, I hope, will not stand for this farce of a pro-mutant presidency. I think our donors are smarter than that. They want to foster _real_ change in the world, and Wyngarde isn’t it. The donors who care heard what I had to say last month about how his presidency does nothing for us.”

“Just don’t say that to anyone from the press who’s here tonight. They want to hear that we’re pleased to see someone in the White House who isn’t actively anti-mutant. Just stick to that talking point and leave it at that.”

“As always, Emma, your words are profound. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another thumb of Scotch to drink before I attempt to talk to the fourth branch of government. While talking to them, I will not remind them of my dislike of our President, even if they ask.”

Emma walked away, obviously content that Erik would avoid making gaffes at the party tonight. Erik glared at the bartender until another tumbler appeared near his hand. Taking one long pull, Erik drank the liquor, then left the bar to mingle amongst the staff and donors for the Mutant Rights Coalition. He had to play nice after the six months that everyone had put in, working to insure that Stryker was not elected--their money responsible for many ads in swing states that pointed out how bad Stryker would be for the country. His speech later had to avoid being too annoyed at Wyngarde’s previous policies, even if everyone in the room could pick up on how angry he had been on the campaign trail. Now was the time to bring mutants back together, to give them a face and some hope for their lives. Erik was smart enough to know when the time for fighting was over and when it was in his, and mutantkind’s interests, to speak up.

He would grin and bear it, as he always had. It was one easy lesson learned from his life with his grandparents and parents in Bedford-Stuyvesant, his grandfather’s stories of the Holocaust always just on the edges of his conscious mind.

-

“Yet again, the Mutant Registration Act is up for debate on the House floor. With President Wyngarde’s inability to keep the Republican House from bringing to the table a piece of legislation so reminiscent of Southern laws from the 1840s, it is clear that his presidency is in trouble. As we approach the midterm elections, and as Wyngarde inched closer and closer to being much like a lame duck, mutants must and should look for a new figurehead to guide and lead them.” 

Sam Seaborn, former Deputy Chief of State, Santos Administration, _New York Times_ Editorial, October 18, 2010

-

_November 2, 2010_

Emma hated midterm elections almost as much as she hated presidential elections. There was no finesse in smaller contests. Watching small-time politicians with delusions of grandeur, knowing that most of them were going to maintain their petty positions of power, mattered little compared to choosing the next figurehead leader of the country.

Only as the news played on the television from the Mutant Rights Coalition’s office did Emma notice something scrolling at the bottom of the results.

“Erik, I need to see you now!” she yelled through the room, aware that Erik hated it when she used her ability in his mind. Everyone else stood to stare at her, though most of them were accustomed to her booming voice, either when she choose to yell at them in their minds or out loud.

“What?” he snapped at her once he was able to stop his conversation and look in her direction. Not that the conversation was going to matter much once Emma told him what she had just seen.

He walked over, confident as ever, as if the room and the world that he had built were all that mattered. Emma knew him well to know how annoyed, if not angry, Erik would get at the small announcement of Stryker running for president in two years.

“What was so important that you had to interrupt me while I was talking to that volunteer?” he asked after she had led them into one of the smaller offices, away from anyone who could overhear their news.

“William Stryker has just announced that he will be running for president. Acceptance speech for some first-time congressman's victory party or other. It seems that he wants to make an entrance yet again.”

Erik’s scowl was firmly set in place just after she finished her sentence. It was almost too slow for his normal reactions, but Emma knew that he had been in better spirits before she ruined the mood. If she had looked into his mind, she was sure that it would have been ticking efficiently as always to process the news, cogs shifting slightly to plan for a new attack, even two years out.

“We’ll start planning tomorrow, I assume?” she asked.

“Of course.” Erik stormed out, no doubt to try and find some conversation to push the news from his mind, Emma knew. She also knew that he would have been better served finding someone to sleep with--someone to distract him from the political world--but Erik had never been one to give in to his physical needs when he was working. It had left him more than once as the lone wolf after a party, which Emma knew was a shame.

At least now Erik had a fire in his belly, something to attack in the coming months. Emma only hoped it was enough of a push for Erik into something more drastic than two years of negative campaign ads. She had been on the sidelines with him for ten years now, building the MRC from what it had been in his youth into the single most powerful mutant interest group in the country. It was time that they did more than work against anti-mutant candidates and agendas, and make a lasting difference.

-

“William Stryker represents a fundamental shift backwards in American politics. Like Strom Thurmond before him, he is a bigot and spreads his hate as free speech. The fact that millions of Americans support his agenda scares me. It should scare all of you. Liberals and free-thinkers alike should look for someone outside of Wyngarde’s administration for guidance. His policies have done nothing to support any minority in the country in a substantial way. We need a vision who will be a champion for us all, not a signal of hatred. 

“We should not look to the Mutant Registration Act failing again as a sign of Wyngarde’s support for all mutants, just as we should not take the Supreme Court’s rejection of affirmative action as anything but a step back for all minorities in this country. We have taken great strides during my administration, and since then, it has fallen back. We must go forward. We cannot tread water or fall back. There is no benefit to anyone in falling backwards, except for those who want to oppress and suppress those who are different from themselves. 

President Matt Santos, to a rally of voters outside Houston Texas, February 15, 2011

-

_March 6, 2011_

Erik sat at his computer, still annoyed at the small ways that Stryker’s campaign had already started to chip away at the work he had put into mutant rights over the years. The ads for Stryker’s campaigns in Iowa and New Hampshire promised that the MRA would pass if he were elected. The idea alone made Erik cringe in fear. He knew what it had been like for his Zayde in Poland before he had been moved into a camp. It had started with something small: a simple yellow star on a jacket that eventually became mass exterminations.

There were already five different PACs that had been created on Stryker’s behalf, each with anti-mutant agendas, working to collect donations from the millions of people who had always feared mutants, who thought of mutants as an Other. Just strangers who should be rounded up and corralled, or kept as a subject class, instead of being treated as citizens and equals - which they were.

He had worked too hard, and for too long to watch all of that fall away because someone like Stryker could win by promising to keep mutants down. Even if Wyngarde had been ineffective at carrying out a pro-mutant agenda, he had at least attempted to work towards ending the cyclical history of oppression, even if his policies were weak at best and awful at worst.

In his mind, the prospect of Stryker taking over where Wyngarde failed set Erik’s rage into a slow burn.

Fingers floated over the keys, anger bleeding through them and into the document.

A fog settled over him as he worked, but when his fingers stopped, he was staring at a letter outlining why he wanted to run for President. Why he wanted to change the world: not only for mutants, but also for everyone else.

He sent an email to Emma with the letter attached, checking with her before it went live on his website.

If William Stryker was intent on taking the most powerful elected position in the world, he would have to deal with Erik Lehnsherr first.

*

_It has been my life’s work to help mutants obtain and maintain their rights here in the United States, starting from when I was in high school student, working to make sure the mutants of New York had equal access and opportunities to work. Just after the mid-term elections, however, a candidate has emerged who stands to undo all of the hard work that I have done over the last twenty-three years._

_For that reason, today I want to announce to my family and to my friends at the Mutant Rights Coalition that I intend to run for the Presidency of the United States. I will be running under the banner of a new party that will be created today: a party that upholds the rights of all minorities, and specifically the rights of mutants. The United States has long stood as a beacon for those who are looking for freedom, and now the United States must not allow a person who seeks to subjugate instead of welcome to take the White House._

_Ellis Island is a symbol of hope and of promise. Let us not waste that by electing bigots into office. Let us not tarnish the reputation of this country with such a candidate. The country that welcomed my mutant grandfather just after World War II now stands with a narrow-minded and prejudiced man seeking its highest office for the second time.The country that called my father to Vietnam to fight and didn't care when he came home broken and beaten, now has the potential to choose someone who would send millions to their deaths just because they are different. The country that has tried to keep me down will no longer be able to do so, be allowed to do so, if I take a stand and make my voice heard, and through me, the voices of millions like me._

_But I will no longer be put down, nor will I stand idly by and watch as others are put down - as my brothers and sisters are put down. I will run to change this country. To give rights and power to those who are looked down upon._

_Working towards this goal will not at all be easy, but in the next few months I intend to work tirelessly to create a system that will serve our community well. It must start with that political party which will seek to provide for those long since forgotten by the political machines. The young, the downtrodden and those who are different should, and will, no longer be forced to follow along with men and women who seek to maintain their power over the rest of us._

_It is my hope that you all will support this endeavor, in whatever way you can._

_Sincerely,_

_Erik Lehnsherr_

-

“It is a bold statement by Lehnsherr to create a party for the sake of true advocacy of mutant rights and the rights of all who are oppressed. Truthfully, he is the only man I know who could create such a party and work towards such an end. His life’s work has been about finding a community among and for mutants, but also about finding a community among the downtrodden and those who look towards America as a beacon of hope. Starting at sixteen when his grandfather helped him organize a mutant rights rally here in Brooklyn, and continuing as he worked on strengthening his own organization while in college...” 

Written introduction for Lehnsherr for President rally in Brooklyn, March 15, 2011

-

_March 21, 2011_

To say that the Mutant Rights Coalition had had a busy few days since Erik’s candidacy message would be an understatement. As Erik's second in command, Emma had not had a moment's peace; her phone had rung continually, and usually, she had to assure concerned donors the organization was not going to fall apart now that Erik's attention was diverted.

She had no desire to pacify those donors, but knew that there was little she could do without fucking around with their brains. Instead of attending to those insipid minds, she thought of how best to serve Erik’s campaign, meager as it was so far.

She knew a few ways of getting the good word out for Erik's run, and she was sure that one of those ways would be more than sympathetic to the cause.

She dialed one number before she extended her power towards where she was calling. She felt him there, just before his voice came over the phone. “Hello, Charles Xavier, _New York Times_.”

“Charles, it’s Emma Frost. I see you’ve been busy the last few months covering the vitriol that is Stryker’s campaign.”

“How nice of you to notice.” She read just as much as she heard the sarcasm. “I hope you haven’t found the reporting to be outlandish so far.”

“On the contrary. It’s been too tame, dear. You know what he’s really like. How have you managed to tone down his hate speech?”

“It has not been easy so far, but my editors have been making sure they read every piece before it goes live.”

“Pity they’re reining you in.”

“Emma, you can cut the bullshit now. What do you want?” Through the phone his voice sounded tight, nearly ready to lash out. He was just where she wanted him to be for her idea to work.

“I wanted you to switch gears in your election coverage. Why don’t you come follow Erik Lehnsherr instead of focusing on how narrow-minded humanity can be?”

“Not that I wouldn’t love a change of assignment, but Scott and Logan are hard to persuade.”

Emma huffed a small laugh.

“Do not, I repeat, do not try to do anything--Logan’s immune to telepathy and Scott’s too much of a good boy to let anyone do something like that to him,” Charles said.

“Are you sure you can’t pitch a more mutant-friendly series? I would love for you to come meet Erik and see what he’s working towards here. He knows where the problems are, and while he dislikes those who want to hurt mutants, he knows that energizing different groups will do plenty of good--not just for our kind, but for the county.”

“I see you’ve drunk his Kool-Aid.”

“I wouldn’t have been working for him for this long if I didn’t believe in him. He’s the real deal. I just need you to see it and tell the world.”

“Let me see if I can talk Scott and Logan into it.”

“That’s all I ask for.”

“I’m not sure if that’s true, but I appreciate the call. I’ll get back to you in a few days with an answer.”

Emma heard the phone click on Charles’ end and she was content that something good would come from the short conversation. Even as a high school student, Charles had been keen to help out the other mutants at Choate. She just had to push him in the right direction when it came to what side of the campaign he would cover.

-

“With less than two years until the 2012 election, there is already a clear split in the first two major candidates. Lehnsherr stands as someone who looks to build up communities, the same communities that Stryker seems intent on tearing down. No one will contest the idea that this election will be a critical one, early days though it may be: the stakes are too large, even this far out. The results will be felt and known for years to come. Those who look for progress and change have a new face to look towards, while those who look towards the past can look no further than the man who has been preaching hatred since the Eighties.” 

Will Bailey, Congressmen for the 1st District in Oregon, _Capital Beat_ , April 4, 2011

-

_April 8, 2011_

Erik did not often show weakness, but his mind and body had been keyed up since deciding to run for President. In the solitude of his apartment, he worried about how he was going to manage a presidential campaign and the MRC at the same time. Nothing he had studied before had suggested that serious candidates could maintain their professional obligations and still create a dynamic campaign. It was making him question everything he had done so far.

Emma would be no help to him in this problem; she was too hard-nosed and dedicated to understand any of the nagging worry that had settled into his stomach. He had no other friends to talk to, but he felt like he could call home, if only to hear his Mame and Zayde tell him he was doing the right thing.

He had not actually told them yet about his plans, about what he had chosen to do, and if nothing else, he owed them that explanation. He summoned his cell phone over with his power, intent on calling Brooklyn to see how the family was doing. It was mostly his own rushed schedule that kept him from calling under the best of circumstances, but in the last month he still had that nervous energy that had added to his reluctance to call them and to face their approval or disapproval.

But his nerves had never stopped him from calling home in the past and he would not let them stop him now. He dialed the familiar number and he waited for someone to answer.

“Hello, Lehnsherr residence,” his mother said.

“‘Allo Mame.”

“Oh Erik, it’s been too long. You’ve been busy?”

“You know the answer to that, Mame. I know you’ve been watching the news. And if not you, then I know that Zayde Max has, and told you all about it.”

Erik smiled when she chuckled and said, “Fine, you know I’ve heard. Is that why you’re calling today?”

He waited, unsure of how to answer her question. “I guess. I just don’t know if it’s the right thing to do.”

“Why not, _zuninkeh_?”

“I don’t know if I can run for President and still keep up with the MRC. I don’t want to let the MRC down just to keep Stryker from driving the country back into the 19th century. Or worse.”

“You won’t be letting the MRC down if you stop Stryker from being President. The two goals are one and the same to me.”

“But you know me. How can I convince all of the MRC donors of that?”

“As you always do. There’s a reason you’ve done so well before.” There was a clicking sound on the line, as if her familiar voice was tsking at him in her familiar way, from Brooklyn to Erik's ear. It was a welcome sound, but also gave him pause.

“It just doesn’t feel right,” he said, thinking. “This isn’t like my usual campaign against the Mutant Registration Act or a poorly worded ordinance in Los Angeles. This is,” he trailed off, unsure of what to say next. There were myriad reasons why running would be a horrible idea, especially if he failed, but his pride had been so wrapped up in the work he did for the MRC that those always registered last in mind, creeping away like tiny spiders.

“This is important, Erik. You’re standing up for what you believe in and asking the country to help you make your beliefs into a reality, not only for you but for them.” She waited before adding anything else. “Let me get Zayde if you’re so unsure.”

“I don’t think I can take one of Zayde’s tirades today. But thank you.” He stopped trying to think of a way to get off that subject. “Has Pa been doing well?”

“He’s been having bad days. I think Zayde’s been watching too much of the news about Stryker near Pa for him not to hear it. He’s had three fits in the last week.”

Erik sighed. He knew well enough what set his father off was inconsistent, but often what did him in were indications of government failings and faults. “Have you reminded Zayde about that?”

“He’s too nervous about a bigot like Stryker being in the White House to listen to sense, even if the election is so far away.”

“Put him on the phone for me, then, Ma.”

There was the sound of footsteps down the stairs before his mother murmured, "Here's Zayde"

“Erik?”

“Ya, Zayde. How are you?”

“Annoyed, but that’s not so bad now that you’re on the phone.”

“Don’t say things like that, Zayde. You need to watch what you’re watching near Pa. You know that.” No matter how old he got, Erik still hated being the one to chastise his grandfather. He had been through too much to be treated like a narish man.

“This is too important to worry about one of his fits.”

“No, Zayde, it’s not. I don't want to hear about it on TV, that Pa ran amuck and killed you and Mame and the rest of the family after listening to one of Stryker's speeches during the campaign. It might look strange if something bad happens to my family, if it self-destructed or something.”

“It won’t get that bad. Plus, if Jakob goes nuts and kills Edie and me because of Stryker, won’t that help you?”

“You don’t know that, Zayde. And please don’t give the universe any ideas.” Erik paused, trying to figure out how best to tell his zayde this next part. “Just try to not watch near Pa, will you?”

“For you, I will. You’ll let us know if you need us for any press, right?”

“That won’t be for a while, Zayde. We still have another year or more before the battle heats up. I have to win my party’s nomination first.”

“Just let me know and I’ll be there. I have faith in you, you know?”

“I do now, Zayde.”

“That’s good enough for me. Have a good night.”

“‘Night. Tell Mame I say goodbye.”

“Of course.”

With a simple click, Erik’s tension eased away. His zayde and mame were behind his decision to run and trusted his ability to see his vision of the Presidency as an extension of his work with the MRC.

-

“As a new candidate with a new party, Lehnsherr has much work to do in order to make a real run at the Presidency. But regardless of how his campaign might turn out, it will be the first time since Ralph Nader that someone has managed to move from single-issue advocacy into national politics.” 

Josh Lyman, former Chief of Staff, Santos Administration, _Taylor Reid Show_ , April 12, 2011

-

_April 27, 2011_

Emma knew well that Erik was never easily distracted when he had a goal in mind. It was part of what made his work with MRC so good--he was always putting his energy into the cause, finding the most effective and efficient way to work through their current goal.

However, for all the work that he was always able to do with the MRC, he was floundering at how to proceed with his presidential campaign. Emma found him pacing in his office, nervous energy bubbling beneath his skin.

“Dear, you’re going to wear out the floor if you keep that up. You also need to stop fretting as you’re about to give me a headache.” She idly picked at a hangnail, hoping her show of disinterest would calm Erik down.

“I don’t know what to do,” was his reply.

“Let me handle that then. I have a few connections I can use to get us some help for the campaign. That’s before we have to separate the campaign from MRC, by the way.”

“Can’t we wait on that for a while still? I mean, it’s not like we need an office for the campaign yet.”

“No, we do need separate offices. Stryker has already established headquarters in New Hampshire and Iowa. We’re not doing that, because, well, we don’t need it. But you need an office here to start soliciting money and gaining momentum from everyone we can.”

Erik huffed, frustrated at the idea. “It’s never been like this before.”

“That’s because you’re running as a candidate, not as a person representing an interest group. There’s a difference and you know it, sweetie.”

“Whatever. Do what you need to do and get something running. I’d like to be able to focus again. I haven’t been able to do a thing in two days.”

“Leave it to me. I’ll have a list of names for you to approve later in the day that can help.”

Emma walked out, leaving Erik to go back to his pacing. He was never keen on her suggesting he do anything; it was something about needing to maintain his autonomy.

It was such a little thing for her to do for him, but she left him alone. She had phone calls to make and some political operatives to bring out of retirement.

*

_Operatives we will be hiring for the Lehnsherr campaign, if available:_

_CJ Cregg (on call only)_  
_Donna Moss and Josh Lyman_  
_Joey Lucas_  
_Charlie Young_  
_Kate Harper_  
_Louise Thornton_

_List any staff from MRC whom you think might be savvy enough to work a major political campaign and we’ll see about moving them over so you’re not surrounded by unfamiliar faces. (I know how you get when you aren’t surrounded by **familiar** faces, so we’ll try to cut that off before the masses come to join as grunts.)_

_Check off all the names that you think might not work well with you from the operatives and there may be something worked out. I am not hiring anyone who worked for Vinnick, no matter how moderate they might be. - EF_

-

“Theoretic politicians, who have patronized this species of government, have erroneously supposed that by reducing mankind to a perfect equality in their political rights, they would at the same time be perfectly equalized and assimilated in their possessions, their opinions, and their passions.” 

James Madison, _Federalist 10_

-

**Presidential Campaign Already Heating Up**  
_by Charles Xavier  
May 3, 2011_

The 2012 presidential election is still eighteen months away, but this is already shaping up to be a contest unlike any other. Unlike the previous two elections, thus far, two candidates have arisen who are working tirelessly to gain early voters.

Given that both Erik Lehnsherr and William Stryker, Jr. are from outside conventional politics, it is not at all surprising that they have started to work on solidifying their respective bases.

Lehnsherr’s campaign has just started to work in the field, even though with a new party, the process is largely different than anything else being done today. Offices have been established in Iowa and New Hampshire, well ahead of the curve for both the caucuses and primaries. However, Lehnsherr’s campaign has had to set itself apart from his work with the Mutant Rights Coalition, a group that Lehnsherr founded in high school.

Unlike Stryker’s campaign, Lehnsherr has had to apply to both the Iowa and New Hampshire Secretaries of State for permission to run in the caucuses and primaries. When contacted for a comment on the new process, neither office of the Secretaries of State were available and none of their spokespeople were at liberty to discuss the matter.

Despite not having official word about being on the ballot in either state, Lehnsherr’s campaign offices have received numerous requests for support, both in the form of monetary donations and of person contributions to man the phone banks, says Emma Frost, Lehnsherr’s second-in-command at the Mutant Rights Coalition, who also is helping to jumpstart the campaign process.

-

“It is enough that the people know there was an election. The people who cast the votes decide nothing. The people who count the votes decide everything.” 

Joseph Stalin

-

_June 4, 2011_

Looking around at the meager set-up at the Lehnsherr for President headquarters, Erik felt like grousing at Emma, at anyone, at anything. He had been keen to say that he wanted to run, but Emma had forced him into an office for the campaign within months of his announcement. At this point, it was all starting to annoy him.

“Is this really necessary?” he asked her one day as he idly looked around.

“Yes, it is. Stryker, for all his stupidity, has been running on and off for the last eight years to varying extents. He has the support already at his disposal. If you want to be competitive, you need to mobilize right now.”

Erik grumbled. “How’d you get so good at this?”

“I’d say telepathy, but it’s really just common sense. Something _you_ lack at times.”

“Isn’t that a negative for my campaign?”

“No, we’ll beat it out of you during prep later. That’s easy.” Emma walked away after her last statement, clearly uninterested in anything else Erik had to say on the matter.

It made Erik wince at the idea of how well Emma seemed to know him, but at the same time, they had been working together for so many years that it was bound to happen. The thought also made him realize that the same could not be said for what he knew of Emma, but she reveled in keeping her secrets to herself.

He sat in his office for fifteen more minutes before Emma popped her head back in.

“You need to stop wallowing in thinking this is too early. You want a real chance, right?” He nodded. “Then you need to take this seriously. This is not just another crusade for you to champion, this is you potentially running the United States of America, changing policy with your election. _This_ is a big fucking deal, and one that needs to look like it. We can't just rely on Stryker being his usual dickish self - that will help us, but not by much. At least not while we don't even know if Worthington will even run. So let’s look like we fucking care. We need headquarters with staffers for people to see in Iowa and New Hampshire. You need to start talking about policy issues, you need to be seen in more than just the mutant press. _You_ need to seem like you _want_ to be President. Not just the man who is going to champion of mutants, as you’ve done before. You said when you announced that you wanted to be the president for the country, so for fucks sake, start acting like it. Put out some ideas of what else you’ll do for people besides mutants and we’re one step closer to looking like a threat.”

She caught her breath, and marched right on. “If you’re not going to be serious about this, then we should close up everything. If not, then we need this office and we need you to take Wyngarde seriously as a mutant president, even one who doesn’t do much for mutants. We need to take Stryker seriously as the opposition. We need to listen to the thousands of people who have started to look at your campaign site. Got it?” Erik nodded. “Good. Now I need to go set up something. Please do something constructive.” She pointed to the large stacks of papers that were strewn around his desk, and walked out without another word.

Erik went back to staring at the briefs on his desk, taking the time to think of the larger ramifications of what Emma was saying while also studying some of the bills currently being discussed in Congress.

He was serious about running; he just had to show it to the office and to the people. Too bad he had yet to believe in his own convictions.

That was the one part of this holding him back, he know. He had to believe in himself, as well as the system to come out of this on top.

*

Don’t regret running. Don’t regret anything right now. You’ve managed to create the most powerful mutant interest group in the country. You have the chops to run and be President. Just get your head out of your ass.

_text message to Erik Lehnsherr from Emma Frost_

-

“An election is a moral horror, as bad as a battle except for the blood; a mud bath for every soul concerned in it.” 

George Bernard Shaw

-

 **To:** Emma Frost (efrost@mrc.org)  
**From:** Charles Xavier (cxavier@nytimes.com)  
**Subject:** Campaign trial  
**Date:** June 14, 2011 8:09 PM

After much prodding, and the number of hits my first article received, Scott and Logan have given me permission to follow Erik around, on and off, for the rest of the campaign. I’ll need to meet with him a few times before we set a schedule, but I think this will bode well for the campaign.

Of course, I had to suggest the whole piece as being a way of reporting something that _could_ earn me a Pulitzer (much as I don’t want to think that that is a possibility), and some attention for Scott and Logan as editors.

There’s great work in tracking the first race of a presidential candidate who is running precisely because he’s a mutant (unlike President Wyngarde who has a family history of running for office and public service, regardless of his mutation).

If it works for you, I'd like to focus on some of Erik's policy issues as a candidate for mutants, and a bit on how the team may be incorporating mutations into the campaign process.

I suppose that sounds really trite, but I’d rather discuss story ideas once I meet Erik.

Let me know what you think and when is the best time to visit the office to discuss some other details.

Charles

*

 **To:** Charles Xavier (cxavier@nytimes.com)  
**From:** Emma Frost (efrost@mrc.org)  
**Subject:** Re: Campaign Trial  
**Date:** June 14, 2011 11:41 PM

Charles,

If you can stop by the MRC offices in the next week or so, I’ll forward you Erik’s schedule for the next few months. He’ll be headed to Iowa to start some groundwork well in advance of the Iowa State Fair in August, but I don’t think you’ll want to meet him until then. It seems that he wants to spend most of the summer there, being down with all of the locals.

I’d call it moronic, but I know how much Erik values knowing all the people he’s working for.

But you’re welcome to watch him there. I’m sure it’ll be enlightening to watch how many babies he can kiss so far.

Before you meet him though, know he’s a very private person. He's not a fan of telepaths and others who might be able to peek into his mind, even if it's just to gauge his emotional state. Just a warning. It’s taken him years to be accustomed to my occasional slip, but I doubt he would appreciate the same from you.

Emma

-

“A nice, easy place for freedom of speech to be eroded is comics, because comics are a natural target whenever an election comes up.” 

Neil Gaiman

-

_August 14, 2011_

Emma’s introduction to the Lehnsherr 2012 campaign had been more than enough to provide Charles with articles well past the election, but he had held off on talking about how much the campaign seemed to currently rely on older political folk, because he felt like they were rehashing the Bartlett and Santos years. That was not how anyone potentially won Pulitzer Prizes, and that was certainly not what Scott and Logan were looking for in his time away from the office.

Not that Charles minded those years. He had grown up with those men and the rocky idealism that they promised, even in times of crisis. But, it was not the time to focus on those “golden” years. Now was the time to focus on a new era, one that Erik might spearhead if it all worked out.

Charles had gone from Emma’s initial meeting to Iowa, where he talked to the smaller offices around the state, mindful of avoiding Erik’s arrival at each of them. It felt like a better article if Charles understood the team behind the man, not the man himself as he slowly wrote articles every few weeks. He would eventually meet Erik, but it made less sense to try and create Erik as a persona, or a symbol for mutants, when he was already something like that. But he did want to hear how policy was being shaped and how the work was being done on the ground. If this campaign was to succeed, it needed to be well-run, which it was, before the candidate even played into the process.

The offices were all working on looking at talking points from Erik’s previous campaigns with the MRC and some developing ideas he had bounced around the offices once had had talked to hundreds of people in Iowa. The ideas were shaping up to be a coherent set of policies that worked for the downtrodden while also demonstrating small measures and concessions to the affluent.

Scott and Logan were not worried about the early articles, but they did remind him to focus on the mutant angle to keep readers interested. He had also been told that using his telepathy for the article was something that no one would like. Not that Charles used it often. So mutations had to be taken lightly; no one would want to think through the implication of Erik’s mutation in a position of power, Charles knew that, but it did help to know that Erik had been seen helping out elderly couples on farms with some of their work.

It had not been difficult for Charles to watch the offices flourish with young mutants who wanted to make a difference, but it had been inspiring to many others so far. It all seemed to run smoothly, a well-oiled engine with a noticeable flourish here and here from Emma, but it still felt like it was not yet about Erik's eventual and actual role as a mutant for mutants, but as a symbol of real change in a system that had been horrible to so many people.

After weeks of watching these offices run, Charles was excited to meet Erik face to face just before Erik was scheduled to attend the Iowa State Fair. He had worked out the details with Emma, careful to know when to arrive at the Des Moines office.

Just before Erik was scheduled to leave, Charles walked in. The atmosphere was unlike anything Charles had seen at the offices so far. There were scores more people fitted between small desks, cell phones out and small flashes going off.

Charles stood in awe as he watched Erik transform the office staff. It was worth the watch to see how captivating Erik was in person. But it died down soon enough, Emma’s figure cutting through the room before her voice did.

“Excuse me everyone. Erik’s got to get to the fairgrounds within the hour. We’ll be back after if you didn’t manage to get a photo. There’s still work to be done today, so don’t spend all your time flipping out on Facebook, Tumblr or Twitter. Please.”

She started to usher Erik towards the door. Charles waited, patiently, while they walked, knowing that he should catch Emma just as they were leaving.

“Emma,” he started, “it’s a pleasure to see you again. I hope I’m not late for the Fair.”

She smiled, but not too brightly, before speaking. “You’re not, Charles. I actually forgot you were coming today. Let me make introductions. Charles Xavier, this is Erik Lehnsherr, candidate for President. Erik, this is Charles, he writes for _The New York Times_ and has been doing a series of articles about you, ones that will continue between now and the election.”

Charles extended his hand for Erik to shake, though he was met with a stare before Erik moved to open the door.

That wasn’t what he was expecting today.

-

“... the public good is disregarded in the conflicts of rival parties, and that measures are too often decided, not according to the rules of justice and the rights of the minor party, but by the superior force of an interested and overbearing majority.” 

James Madison, _Federalist 10_

-

Erik knew, just as he watched Charles flinch, that he had been a world-class asshole. But maybe he could be excused this time. Charles, with those blue eyes and that floppy hair, had been a sight that he had wanted to memorize. Or shove everyone between them out of his way so he could talk to Charles in private. Or maybe it was that Erik just wanted to pin Charles to a desk and ravage him.

Despite his intention to manhandle Charles as soon as possible, Erik’s public persona had never been seen as sexual. He always attended the MRC events with Emma, and no one had said anything otherwise about his sexuality. It had been the unspoken rule of his work that being a mutant rights advocate was first before anything else. He was a sexual being after he had worked for his cause.

Not that anyone knew that, save for Emma herself. She had only gained that knowledge after so many years working side by side with him, and he had sworn her to secrecy on anything that was not related to the MRC as soon as she signed her contract to work with him.

Now, however, he was sitting in an SUV with Charles and Emma as they drove to the fairgrounds. His mind was at odds with itself--half tempted to give into the physical pleasure of being with another man and half tempted to maintain his stoic public persona.

He had to say something to ease some of the tension. Too bad it had to make him sound like a dick. Not the impression he wanted to give Charles.

“Emma, when we get to the Fair, can I have a word with you?”

She nodded, while Charles looked down at his Moleskine, trying to avoid anything awkward. Too late for all involved. It was already too quiet in the SUV and no one said anything as they continued towards the fairgrounds.

Erik zoned out as the car drove through town before it stopped. He had to think of how to explain something to Emma, but he was also sure that whatever it was and wherever it was, Charles would overhear.

He stepped out of the car, extended his hand to Emma as she left the backseat and waited for Charles to exit before anything else happened. Erik stayed by the car, keeping Emma’s hand in his. Charles stood back - far enough to be within earshot, but not close enough to eavesdrop.

“Emma, you should have warned me about him,” he whispered, not daring to have this conversational mentally with her.

“I did warn you that he was coming.”

“Not about that. The attractive part,” he all but ground out.

Her eyes drifted off to somewhere else, avoiding Erik’s knowing look. “Don’t know what you mean.”

“You do, and this isn’t over. You’ll pay.”

“I don’t think so. You’ll be so far gone in another three days that it won’t matter.”

“I can’t start anything now. Do you think that will help? Not only will I be the first mutant running because I’m a mutant, but I’ll also be the first gay candidate. That’s going to win me _so_ many votes.”

"Keep it down, you'll be fine." Emma paused. "So long as you don't get caught, that is."

She turned away from him and started to walk to Charles, who had been staring at the ground while he and Emma had talked. Erik stood back and waited, unsure if Emma was about to out his secret or if she was just playing an evil joke on him to lighten his mood.

Erik heard her talking to Charles before he started to catch up to them as they walked into the Fair.

*

Charles worried about the status of his articles as he watched Erik and Emma argue with each other. He was used to watching Scott and Logan growl at each other over how to handle some stories, but this seemed far different--more personal and not connected to his arrival or the campaign.

His research had said that Emma and Erik were extremely close, but this looked like something out of the ordinary for co-workers. Had they been something else before? Something that flared up when tensions ran high? That had no place in his series, but it certainly would explain a bit about why Erik was always seen with Emma on his arm.

Not that Erik’s personal life _should_ matter in this day and age. Erik was not the first bachelor to run for office.

Charles filed all of it away, not knowing what to make of it without having a better understanding of the man at the head of the campaign.

He waited for their conversation to end and hoped that it was not going to result in something truly awkward for the rest of the afternoon.

-

The Fair was chaos personified in the forms of scores of people eating fried whatever and thinking so loudly that Charles winced at each turn. This, he realized, was no different than rush hour in New York, but it felt different--different patterns of thoughts, as these people were hyped up about the fair and not resigned to their commute to work--but it still left him nearly wrung out from their short walk to the grandstand.

No wonder Erik seemed to have shut himself off (and out) on the ride. Or something. Charles still was not sure, and he knew better than to ask at this exact moment without royally fucking something up. Whatever Emma and Erik had discussed was not for him to know.

Instead, he followed at Erik and Emma’s heels, once he had stopped talking to Emma and kept a mental tally on how Erik had been a stoic figure in the car when compared to the nearly too large grin on his face that Charles saw now as they passed fairgoers at every step.

There were obviously two very different sides to Erik Lehnsherr, and that was what Scott and Logan were looking for. Or so he thought. Without having met the man yet, Scott and Logan had been quiet on the turn they expected the series to take after this meeting, but he knew that his email to them later today would shift everything that they had been working on before.

If there was time later, Charles needed to talk to Erik about the specific tone of the series from here on out and how to make sure that Erik was comfortable with some specific personal details being public knowledge for the larger goal of helping the campaign.

The trouble was convincing Erik that it was the right path; that the world at large needed to see him as a man, more so than they might have seen him before. He was not just a mutant rights advocate any more; he was a person with family and friends, too.

The crowd grew louder as they walked closer to the grandstand and Charles set himself back from the pack, letting Emma run the event as he knew she could.

Erik, outside of a small room, was something to behold. He lost all of that self-conscious nervousness from the office and was replaced with a man who smiled and laughed at everyone who passed, pleased to see so many mutants there to support him.

This side of Erik was going to make a great story: a humble man who catered to the people, but did not pander to them. But the other side of that coin was as deadly as it was charismatic.

Charles let those two sides play out as Erik’s speech started, content to watch as Erik’s very public persona shone. As soon as the speech was over, Erik was out in the crowd shaking hands and kissing a few mutant babies, but as soon as the meet and greet was over, at Emma’s insistence, the Erik from before returned. The car was as cold and unwelcoming as it had been before.

It took a few minutes of utter silence before Charles thought to say anything. “This has been a great day, but I’m not sure that this longer piece is what will best suit the campaign.”

Emma looked shocked, though Charles knew she should not, while Erik barely had time to open his mouth before he spoke.

“I think,” he started, “that I owe you something of an apology, Charles.”

Emma coughed something that mentally sounded like “understatement”, which made Charles smile. Just a bit.

“Save it for headquarters, will you? Or someplace that isn’t this Expedition,” Emma said.

Charles nodded his agreement and went back to thinking of how to frame the start of this article. If such an article were to exist in a few hours.

*

In the safety of headquarters, Emma left Charles and Erik alone. They had a few things to sort out, hopefully before Erik got to what he had been trying to hide for the day.

Erik, once he found someone to lust after, was something to be seen. Hopefully Charles liked that side of him.

*

Emma had left her telltale signs that she had been looking around his mind as soon as she left the room.

“So, I think we need to discuss a few things,” he said to Charles.

“If you think that’s best. I don’t know how much you want me to be here right now.”

Erik signed, but forced himself to say something, “Firstly, I do want you to continue, even if I came off cold earlier. I’d like to start over, if you don’t mind. Over a drink?”

Charles’ expression changed quickly, but he maintained as neutral a face as possible. “I’d like to see a bit more of the Erik from the Fair and less of the Erik from the car ride. Is that possible?”

“It’s not possible, but probable.” Erik winked for good measure and put on a smile like he had worn around all those supporters earlier. “There’s a bar down the street that’s usually pretty quiet if you want to try a new location.”

“Sounds perfect,” Charles said before he waited for Erik to move towards the door.

*

Erik’s features were just as schooled as they had been in the car and in the meeting before, right until the bartender put a beer bottle near him.

The turnaround made Charles wonder just how much of a difference there was in Erik’s personality, but he knew that that question would be answered soon enough.

“So,” Charles started as his took a pull from his own beer.

The clink of Erik’s bottle against the table was not what Charles should have been focused on, but he watched the ring of condensation on the table instead of meeting Erik’s gaze. “So, if you couldn’t tell, I have two very different personas.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Charles pulled out that sly grin that drove Scott and Logan absolutely crazy--the one that was just this side of shit-eating, full of smug satisfaction.

“That’s bullshit. I saw you flinch when I didn’t shake your hand. But let me explain.” Erik’s voice dropped a few levels before he said anything else. “I’d rather get to know you better, but not in the context of any article. I’m not saying no to the article, but I’m also asking for something else,” Erik finished before he brought his hand around Charles’ own and squeezed them together.

Charles felt himself blush, though he could not say that he had never been propositioned on the job. “Do you want to keep this going here?” he asked instead of replying directly to Erik’s comment, letting it drop if he were a lucky sort of man tonight.

Erik moved himself closer to Charles before whispering in his ear, “Not yet.” He went back to where he had been earlier and continued. “I’m a very private person, and I’m not one to give in to media attention, except for when and where it's merited. Which is strange when I’m running for president, but the country needs a candidate who _actually_ cares about mutants and isn’t just going to pay them lip service, who isn't going to court them for their votes and then ignore them once elected. So, I have two different sides. You could ask my mame how much she’s been supporting my self-esteem the last few weeks, but it’s true. I’d rather get the work done than have to talk about getting the work done.”

Erik stopped to take another pull from his bottle as Charles remained as still as before. If he was going to get the whole story about the cold introduction followed by a very warm come-on, he was going to be as patient as he knew how.

“So, it takes being in public for me to open up,” Erik said as he finished his beer and after the bottle had returned to the table. “But, I also know that you’re not nearly as used to me as Emma. Which is to say, I’m gay, but I don’t think it’s anyone’s business who I want to sleep with. At least I don’t, unless I want to sleep with them.”

Charles nodded at the explanation, but also knew how much Erik's sexuality - or the question of his sexuality - could play into the election. Stryker had a son, along with a very plain wife who spoke on his behalf more often than not. Putting that against a single Erik would take some serious effort, no matter the team behind Erik’s campaign.

“You know you’re going to have a battle from Stryker on how you’re not into family values because you don’t have a family.”

Erik’s other fist nearly slammed into the table. “I don’t need to have kids to care about families and their values. I was raised by a Holocaust survivor and a wife of a Vietnam vet with PTSD. I value and support families and what they stand for.” The end of the statement was punctuated by the jukebox shifting into some pop song from whatever the most recent boy band du jour.

“Okay, so I see you have that response handled. I’m not sure if this is a good idea, though. I know that you’re a private man, but it will be impossible for me to separate you the private man from you the candidate.”

It was Erik’s turn to nod now. “Fine. I know that this series is a necessary part of my larger transition into public life. I only ask that you keep my sexuality out of the article, whatever you and I choose to do with our time.”

“I can promise you that,” Charles said with a wink. He let the words out and was content to let the ambient noise of the bar take over. Erik moved his chair back towards Charles before pressing his knee against Charles’.

It took all of Charles’ restraint not to forcibly drag Erik back to his hotel room. His ethics were clearly winning out tonight.

Damn them all to thell.

-

 **If the Presidential Election were held today, who would you vote for?**

Erik Lehnsherr - 35% 

William Stryker - 30% 

Warren Worthington III - 15% 

Undecided - 20% 

Margin of error +/- 4% 

Pew Center Poll, September 6, 2011

-

_September 15, 2011_

Just after Warren Worthington III, who had been Wyngarde's Vice President, announced his own run for the highest office in the land, Erik felt like the world was tilting too far in his favor.

Worthington was not a bad Vice President, but he was also one more mutant who had already worked with Wyngarde at not giving a real shit for mutant politics. It was a hard line to draw for him, but that was what the rest of the political campaign was for. At least until they had to put that knowledge from them to Erik.

Regardless of what Worthington had done, he was starting out behind Erik. That had to be a good sign.

Hopefully it stayed that way.

Erik’s thoughts on the matter had little influence on the office, though. He had received no less than seven emails in the first days after Worthington’s announcement from Josh, CJ and even Lou telling him not to rest on his laurels. That he had to get out on the opposition research to highlight all of Worthington’s failed policies with Wyngarde was not something he wanted to do.

Only the necessary evil if he was serious.

It had been easier in the last few weeks for him. He adjusted to the idea of Charles following him around from office to office as things were settling in. He adjusted to the idea of being in photos with young staffers at each office. He even adjusted to the idea that there would be serious repercussions if his campaign failed.

Charles’ eyes were always welcoming in each office, kind but not pitying. He and Charles had managed to work something out around the staffers so that no one knew that Charles was responsible for Erik’s morning coffees or that Erik’s requests for oatmeal raisin cookies were for Charles’ benefit. Small measures between the two of them, private moments that spoke of the potential for something greater when the campaign was not keyed up in response to Worthington’s presence, beyond what Stryker’s campaign already meant.

There had been fewer calls to Bed-Stuy. Fewer days when Emma nearly stared him down in her attempts to tell him to man up telepathically.

Keeping it up, Erik knew, would be harder. There was no time like the present to try, though. Especially if those numbers were to be believed.

*

In the quiet of his hotel room, he sent out a soft brush of his mind to Erik. They had been slowly finding moments after hours to talk, testing the waters of what could be between them--initial lust blooming into a quiet affection.

There had been few opportunities for them to meet, but Charles was content to know that Erik had let him into his mind, for however long.

 _Are you alone?_ he asked, getting himself comfortable, or as comfortable as he could, on the hotel’s poor mattress.

There was a muffled sense of irritation before Erik replied, _Emma was trying to talk to me still. I had to push her out._

Charles smiled at that image. _How thoughtful of you._

 _It’s not that at all,_ Erik started, _it has more to do with Emma already knowing how far gone I am with you and not wanting her to have further proof._

Mentally, Charles sent over a nod, before he let Erik talk to him about anything that had nothing to do with the campaign. Erik’s voice in his mind settled Charles’ nerves, and made him relax into the feeling of what could happen between the two of them later.

Of how Erik would kiss him and tease him.

Sending those ideas as Erik talked got Charles the exact reaction he had hoped for: Erik’s own ideas sent back full force, images more graphic than Charles had come up with himself.

 

-

“I voted for you during your last election.” 

Mao Tse-tung

-

_January 7, 2012_

Four months into the campaign with Stryker and Worthington both dogging his footsteps, their attacks were making Erik more frustrated than normal. The staff in most of the major offices were up and running: canvassing to help spread the word early as well as doing some basic fundraising while they were at it.

All of that still left Erik nervous. It was still too early to go out stumping, but Emma and everyone else had insisted that there were some political necessities when the candidate running had yet to be a true political figure.

So he was running around from state to state trying to do everything he could, all the while Charles sat around and watched him.

That was most unnerving, if he was honest.

Since that night at the bar in Iowa, Charles had said nothing about Erik’s proposition, and he simply watched, scribbling notes in his Moleskine all the while.

Erik had yet to read any of Charles’ pieces, not wanting to have his ego inflated (potentially) by the story, but Emma said that everything was fine thanks to the press. Internet donations jumped up after each one of Charles’ pieces went live, which was the point, at least according to Emma.

No matter the good press, though, it still raised Erik's hackles every time he saw Charles in the corner. Charles, as always, looked like a man on a mission dressed in khakis and a pressed shirt. It was nearly driving Erik insane to look at Charles and have to say nothing about how much he had wanted to just kiss the other man. Their mental conversations eased some of the tension, but as soon as Charles would show up with a coffee for Erik and his bright smile, Erik lost his focus for a minute.

It had been far too difficult to stop himself from acting on his libido. He had found that it was easier to control it when he was sitting in his apartment in New York alone. But surrounded by so many other people in the office who seemed to want to hook up as soon as the day was over, it overwhelmed him. More than what he and Charles were sharing overwhelmed him, which said something about how desperate Erik was to be with Charles that he pushed it aside and tried to focus on the notes in front of him.

Usually the MRC office was not a place where he noticed people wanted to go home with one another, but it must have been something in the process of running a campaign that acted as an aphrodisiac.

He shifted his thoughts away from sex, looking down at more of the numbers from the last FiveThirtyEight poll. There was a good chance that he could secure his nomination and potentially win the election in November, but it was still not enough to ease his unrest.

Getting up from his desk, he set aside all of that for the night. He needed to have a drink. Or five.

-

_January 17, 2012_

Emma knew, beyond just scanning Erik’s mind, he was frustrated. He had no concept of how to run a long campaign, but that should not have influenced anything else in the campaign.

Yet it had.

He was more wrung out than normal. Not that he was usually warm and outgoing - it was just now more apparent he needed to release just a bit of that tension.

The problem was, it would be nearly impossible to do that in a way that did not call attention to the fact that Erik needed to get laid. Or just scream at the entire world.

His attitude was worse than she had seen when they were in school together. He had always gone off to get what he needed then, more than content with a few one-night stands.

Too bad there were few options available to get Erik out of this particular funk.

Unless she went to Charles. She had read Charles since he arrived and it was clear that he was as interested in Erik as Erik probably was in him, but neither had made a point of suggesting that he wanted to act on those feelings. She also knew that Charles was as singularly focused as Erik. There would need to be talk about the articles before she could slip into something more personal.

That, at least, she could hope to help with the rest of the article’s goal of humanizing Erik for a wider audience. There had been little said about his time in college once he had started the MRC. It was an important part of what made Erik _Erik_ , to be sure.

 _Charles, if you’re around the office, can I talk to you?_ she sent out.

Charles walked into her office five minutes later. “You called?” he asked.

“Well, I realized that while talking to Erik, you’ve gotten a good idea of who he is now, but not so much about who he was when I first met him.”

“Go on,” he said, flipping his Moleskine open to take down anything Emma might say.

“I think an important part of what makes Erik a good candidate can be seen in how he worked on the MRC after he had founded it in high school and how he transitioned that work into the work that the group did while he was at Wesleyan.”

Charles simply nodded. “I’m waiting then,” he said instead, poised and ready to be the investigative journalist.

She paused, not wanting to seem too eager while taking into account things needed to be said that would get Erik moving. If she was precise in everything, she could get Erik to sleep with Charles, something that she knew he had wanted to do since that first meeting.

It was to Charles’ credit that he had managed to hold out for five months. She would not have lasted that long.

“Let’s start with how I met Erik. We were both freshmen--I hate the phrase first years--at Wes, in the mutant dorm, shithole that it was. But, you know, it was a community. One that was eager to hear about Erik’s little organization, beyond what we’d all heard about in that annoying freshmen getting-to-know-your-classmates bullshit. To our dismay, though, Erik was this quiet guy who scowled at us and complained about who was playing Sarah McLachlan too loud.”

Charles let out a small laugh at that image.

“It was priceless, let me just say. But, back to the point: it took me five weeks before Erik opened up. He is - truly - a private guy, but I managed to break him down.”

“Without using your telepathy?” She smiled and let an eyebrow arch up in surprise. She had to give Charles credit for not just rummaging through her mind, or attempting to, and to let her tell it as she wanted. He was just as scrupulous as she had remembered in high school. It was a pity that Harvard had not turned him off that.

“I didn’t say that. Not that it matters. By the time that Erik was talking to the floor more, we all started to see that he was a guy who cared. He didn’t needle anyone into demonstrating what they could do, but he went around floating ball bearings in the air and just not giving a shit.

“It was easy after that to shift into diamond around him. To tell him about my history, which you already know. I was the first to open up, but I wasn’t the last. Just the one who stayed near him as we lived together for another three and a half years. He collected stories, all of them, and started to use that to gain momentum for the MRC. It gave him places to look into for mutant rights violations.”

She stopped, just to see how much Charles had written down. At least five pages of his Moleskine had been flipped as she had spoken, which was a good sign.

“He majored in poli sci, to the surprise of no one after his work so far, though he wasn’t so satisfied with the way that the professors tended to ignore mutant issues. “

“Sounds right. At least, I think it does after reading his bio on the website long enough,” Charles said, wryly. He let out a soft laugh after, clearly amused by the idea of a young Erik telling off professors, an image that Emma hoped fit nicely with the man Charles had seen so far.

“But what you don’t know is how much he loves seeing mutations in action. Especially when he’s alone.”

Charles gasped, just this side of shocked. “Emma, what are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that you go find Erik and help to make the staff’s life easier. He’s been wound up tighter than anything.” She stopped, but only to make a point. “I know you know he’s been interested in you since Iowa. Go get it - go get _him_. It won’t affect the story, I’m sure.”

She winked at him, and waited as Charles put himself back in order. He slowly closed his Moleskine and walked out.

Hopefully it would be enough.

*

Emma had failed to mention where Erik was, but it took very little time for Charles to find Erik’s mind in the town, especially after they had been communicating telepathically for months without her knowledge.

He was sitting at a bar, lucidity sluggish from a few drinks. That would either help or hurt Charles’ plans, at least if Emma had suggested was accurate. Now that he had an idea that Erik’s best friend would not mind if he and Charles were together, it spurred Charles into action. There had been months of suggestions passed between them that he wanted to try out.

There was only one way to find out if Erik had meant everything he had suggested.

As he approached Erik at the bar, Charles made sure to put on a slight smile that he had been told was dangerous more often than not.

“Long day?” he asked instead of trying for anything else.

“As usual. Nothing like being punched from the right and the left in the media to make you want to open up a bottle.”

“Occupational hazard?” Charles surmised.

“I suppose. But I don’t want to think about it now. That’s why I’m here.”

“Well, I think you can do better than this,” Charles said as he waved at the bottles behind the bar. He whispered, “I’ve got a bottle of much better Scotch in my room, if you’d rather.”

Erik simply nodded before gulping down the last of the lowball. Charles went to the door, content to let Erik follow.

_I’ll let you drive yourself, and just knock on my door when you get to the hotel. Room 334._

Charles would not look back to confirm if Erik heard anything, though he was sure that after so many conversations across the hotels that Erik had. He had to focus on getting himself to the hotel quickly because he knew that Erik’s mind was radiating desire mixed with trepidation at actually following through on their mental flirting.

After fumbling with the keys to his rental like an overzealous teenager, Charles turned away from the door and started to walk to his car. He could feel Erik’s mind a few feet back, still nervous but growing more and more confident as he drove.

So this _was_ going to happen.

Once in the parking lot at the bar, Charles looked around, trying to find Erik’s car by locating the sense he had come to associate with Erik over the last months but had kept from fully investigating until now--the mental image of Erik all over one small black sedan by the corner. He pulled away from the bar before he could only focus on where Erik’s car was, but kept himself aware of where Erik was, just to make sure that Erik was not going to turn around and run away before he got into his car.

He focused on getting from Point A to Point B and turned this ignition over, pulling out onto the road. The trip was a short one, he knew from the drive over and he made himself drive down the road, fingers tapping against the steering will as he went.

Moments later, he parked, acutely aware of each single step as he did so. His heart thumped out the seconds and his mind reached out to Erik, seeking him to be more aware of him in the world, of the possibilities that lay ahead.

By the time he felt Erik in the lobby, Charles also quietly thanked whoever he could that Erik was also staying at the same hotel. No one would notice if Erik never made it to his floor, even if they were each taking separate elevators.

It felt like the elevator was taking forever to travel to the lobby, but soon it dinged open and Charles hurried into the small space. His fingers trembling slightly, as he waited for it to move up, and when it opened, he let himself into his room, scrambling to tidy up--closing his laptop, not worrying about anything that he had open and unsaved.

The final flourish was to place the Scotch carefully on the television cabinet.

It was not exactly as he would have hoped it to look, but it would do for now.

By the time he had gone to the bathroom to get the glassware, there was a knock at the door. Carefully holding both glasses in his hand, Charles opened the door and took in the sight of Erik in front of him. It was much the same look as in the bar, an Oxford shirt and grey slacks, but in the light of the hotel, it was clear that Erik was wrung out, nearly exhausted, but looking for something to distract himself.

"Hi." Charles paused, willing himself to appear suave. He had had plenty of opportunities to interact with Erik surrounded by other people, but very little outside of that face to face; their mental flirting had lacked all the cues of face to face interaction. Emma must have remembered what he was like as a high schooler--all those bad pick up lines--but Charles hoped that she had not passed along any of those embarrassing stories to Erik as she had started to earlier in the evening. He opened the door further, wordlessly inviting Erik inside, still trying to appear as if he had all of shit together and was not _this_ close to rolling on the floor at being the current conquest of Erik Lehnsherr. Their quiet moments over the last five months had been nothing compared to the predatory look that Erik had as he looked over the room.

“I see you weren’t kidding about the drinking,” Erik said as he eyed both the glasses in Charles’ hand and the bottle on the dresser.

“I never kid about drinking.” He smirked, hoping for something light, but also alluring, as he had no idea what to make of Erik’s mind now that they were alone and they were ready to rip each other’s clothes off. Erik had, before, been restrained at times with what he had wanted to do and other times had been so quick to action that in the moment Charles could not tell which side of Erik was winning: the one who wanted to slowly undo Charles’ clothes or the one intent of seeing pale skin after ripping all of Charles’ clothes to the floor.

Charles turned around and made his way to the bed, knowing that he would have to be extremely lucky to get Erik to sit on his lap in the chair--too lucky for all of his previous attempts at flirting which left Charles feeling like Erik would set their pace each and every time they were together. He put the glasses down, and tried to not look like someone who was only looking for sex.

Well, maybe just a bit. It had started out as just flirting, but each and every cookie that Erik brought him and each coffee that Charles brought Erik took what they were about to do beyond sex and into something that could last, if they were lucky.

Erik walked over and sat next to him, looking more exhausted as every moment passed. It had yet to occur to Charles how much a campaign was different from his normal work, but in the the moment, it was all he could see. Erik leaned in and all but tackled Charles onto the mattress before Charles felt Erik’s lips against his.

It felt as though Erik was trying to release months and months of tension into the kiss, insistent and demanding, but also full of potential as if their flirting had been nothing compared to Erik’s true intentions. Erik’s mouth was hot against his own, and the small huffs of air from Erik’s nose were enough to send Charles over. It was only the same feeling of _need_ and _want_ from Erik that forced Charles to turn down his own body’s reactions. It was just as much about each of them finding out what was between them as it was about getting off.

Charles let Erik take control, not because he was a passive man, but because everything about Erik’s body language and surface thoughts had said that he wanted and needed some control, some measure of power in a world that was pulling him part at the seams each day and putting him back together later. Erik kissed with purpose, just as he did everything else. His hands were busy exploring every inch of Charles, which felt like both the best and worst thing at the moment. Charles hoped that they could move past foreplay and get into the more vivid fantasies of Erik’s mind.

Erik ground into Charles, growling his approval at the contact. His liberally roving hands pushed aside cumbersome layers of clothing finding hot skin. Charles felt himself hot at each point of contact between he and Erik, as if Erik’s fingers were burning Charles.

Charles sensed Erik's need readily and without the use of telepathy, relying on how quickly Erik moved as proof enough of how much it was effecting Erik. Tipping his head back to expose his vulnerable throat to Erik's skilled lips, teeth, and tongue, Charles reached down and palmed Erik roughly, inhaling sharply as they each responded to being overcome by mutual desire.

Their clothes fell away without ceremony, and with a reciprocal squeeze of Charles' ass, Erik thrust into him with so much determination, the rest of the day floated away. Left with only the pleasure of Erik’s ministrations and his own arousal, Charles gave into it all and enjoyed the feel of Erik against himself.

-

_January 18, 2012_

The strong light of the winter set in through the hotel’s curtains just as a series of annoying bird calls started up from somewhere in the general direction of Charles' trousers.

Fuck, he had left his phone on all night.

At least Erik had slept like the dead after they had rutted against each other for hours. Small mercies.

His khakis, thankfully, were just on the floor by the nightstand. He pulled out his phone: there were at least eight messages from the office, from both Scott and Logan.

Truthfully, he had suspected that they should have been harassing earlier. The last part of his piece on Erik had been sent in before Emma’s conversation.

Scott had said that the piece was missing something--that piece that made Erik ‘human’.

Charles let out a low laugh. He had exactly what would make Erik more relatable, but it would also nearly kill Erik’s chance of winning.

No matter how many states were looking to allow gay marriage, Charles knew that the country would have a hard time buying a president who was gay as well as a mutant, and Erik’s choice of partners might not go over well, no matter what Wyngarde had accomplished before.

Realizing that that conversation might take some time, Charles looked around for his boxers, pulled them on and then went to the desk to email them, looking at the screen and knowing that neither Logan nor Scott would be in the office before eight this morning.

There were only so many ways he could tell his bosses he had something else without having to reveal it outright.

If it came out before Charles thought it appropriate, he was sure that Erik would cut off the entire story and probably surround Charles in metal from wherever to keep more of Erik’s private behavior from being common knowledge. That metal cocoon was not the idea of bondage he had imagined with Erik.

Thinking of that as a possibility worried Charles. He was definitely ahead of himself and doomed.

Well and properly doomed.

At least he knew that their flirting had not been innocuous, and that there had been a purpose to Emma’s suggestion after Erik’s mood had been so foul for weeks on end.

-

_February 18, 2012_

It was odd to Wade that he had yet to see more of Lehnsherr’s campaign offices near Stryker’s. There were just about five months before the nominating conventions, and if the polls were to be believed, Lehnsherr was doing well. Too fucking well.

Maybe it was that little jumped-up reporter from The Times who followed Lehnsherr around like some kind of blue-eyed lap dog, furiously writing in his Moleskine as Lehnsherr tried to win the pants off the general public.

That was all sick, if Wade was being honest.

No one should follow Lehnsherr around that much. He was just a two-bit man with an interest group and some clout. Not like Stryker, who had years and years of running for office behind him and years of experience that could translate into running the country.

Years of being ready to take down anything that was not the _American Way_.

Maybe, Wade thought, that Xavier guy was following Lehnsherr around for another reason.

That would work well, he knew. Stir up the poll numbers and give Stryker some traction. A way to win.

Wade put that idea in the back of his mind, and kept it there.

He might have to bring it up with Stryker later. If the numbers were not shifting by December, for sure.

Leave it for Worthington for now. Or someone who was not his boss. His boss had more important things to do.

-

“I don't think there is anything more bitter in American politics than a close election.” 

Danny Strong

-

_February 20, 2012_

Emma felt proud that her little conversation had yielded some positive results. Erik’s mood had lightened to the point where he was not giving the angry scowl to the interns, and to the point where Josh and Donna almost did not mind his looks of disapproval every time they managed to kiss in public.

But he still was cautious around Charles. Sure, she had seen that Charles laughed when Erik managed to say something funny, but they still had this distance that said whatever had happened might have been just a one-time thing. The cookies and coffee from before seemed strained now, as if each of them were keeping up appearances and not meaning anything behind it, that it was just an empty gesture at this point.

If Erik was going to survive the rest of this campaign, whatever had happened with Charles needed to be a regular thing, she thought. For everyone’s sanity, and first and foremost hers.

Maybe she could email CJ to find out how to orchestrate some sort of continued thing without that thing being exposed to everyone who was following Erik around.

There had to be something there to keep Erik happy and to keep the campaign moving forward.

*

Charles almost hated himself for the facade that he had to put up when he was around Erik now. It was highly inappropriate that he had made out with the subject of a long piece, but no one knew about it and so that made it easier to hide--without anyone else having confirmation of what he and Erik had done--so long as he kept his guard up and his shields in place.

But Emma always had her eye on him and on Erik when they were in the same room. It was unnerving to have to keep the mental images of that night with Erik buried so deep.

Though it looked like she had a plan in motion, so maybe that point was moot.

He went back to watching Erik in the policy meeting, pushing down the mental images of what he wanted Erik to do with his hands instead of rubbing them through his hair in frustration.

*

Erik was slowly getting more and more tired of the bullshit of Worthington’s campaign. It was nothing but bullshit to the tune of "I've been in government, I know how to govern" - nothing about the practical things, nothing about his positions on any number of policies and problems that existed currently or in the recent past.

He reminded Erik of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man, actually. Lots of fucking hot air.

But FiveThirtyEight had Worthington ahead of Stryker, _thank fuck_ , and inching closer and closer to Erik. Sadly, there were no policy measures on the floor in Congress that could use a mutant-friendly rider, and that meant it was going to come down to personality.

That was all enough to make Erik’s head hurt. For all the shrewd work from those from Bartlett’s and Santos’ administration, it was harder to work with a mutant candidate than with a man who had sent himself into a head-on collision with a tree while on a bike, or with a man who had a secret bank account to keep his brother away from being thought of as a deadbeat dad, and Erik was sure of that now.

They were all great with policy and messages, but there were still eight months until he would have to win a nomination while Worthington worked on his and there still was not much to be said from Worthington’s camp about _anything_ to come out against.

He was tired of meet and greets.

He needed another night with Charles. But that was harder now that the staff followed him everywhere.

*

Emma tried to pick a bar that had plenty of open space, but in the confines of Cleveland, the pickings were slim.

Instead, they ended up in the hotel bar, and thank small mercies that they were generating enough revenue to pay for hotels with bars now. It was a long way from a Holiday Inn Express eight months ago.

One long table had a reserved sign and she smiled. It was starting out well. Josh and Donna were chatting each other up, which was adorable and sickening at the same time. Erik walked in as if he owned the place, yet no one paid him much attention. Kate and Charlie were deep in some philosophical argument that had started in the office and continued here. Thankfully, Charles came in last, looking unsure at having to witness the team after hours.

 _You know that Scott and Logan want more. What better way to do that than to see how the staff gets along out of the office?_ Emma told him before he walked to the table.

“Erik, you’re giving me cash and I’m buying something for us all. Have a problem with that?” she asked.

Erik didn’t shake his head and lifted his wallet to get a few bills. “Just make it good.”

“For all our esteemed staffers, I wouldn’t do anything but the best.” She grabbed the cash and walked to the bar, content in knowing that if she could get everyone drunk enough she might get Erik’s tension to relax the next morning.

As she asked for a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label, she thought back to what she had said to Charles and how it had not done the job exactly. They were flirting and being social in the office, to be sure, but it was not as she had imagined and it had been more awkward since her conversation with Charles the other week. She had hoped that Erik would put a claim on Charles as he had done with all the guys at Wes and Northwestern, but instead Erik had stayed distant, making it look like the attraction of Erik’s part was nothing but a passing fancy for a quick fuck.

Of all the times in the world when Erik had to hang on to his pride in keeping his private life _private_ , it should not be today. Charles could easily design that their one night together was not worth risking his career or Erik’s and be done with it before Erik was even his new party’s candidate.

She could, or Charles could, keep anyone from noticing anything. Maybe she would plant that suggestion after the third glass for each of them.

*

Thanks to one slightly annoying worker from Lehnsherr’s office, Wade happily sat in a dark corner of the bar, watching the staffers drink happily.

It was not something that Stryker allowed - ever - in his campaigns. He was especially firm about keeping Wade from enjoying a drink with the rest of the group that worked hard for Stryker.

Humans and mutants should not work together, Wade was sure. Unless under special circumstances, as Stryker had always said. He was that special circumstance for the last three campaigns Stryker had run, and as long as Wade still did his job well, he would be the lone mutant on the staff.

He nursed his beer, content to watch Lehnsherr’s group for an hour before the gathering began to run down, groups slowly drifting off toward the elevators. Lehnsherr was one of the last to leave, just after that reporter, Xavier, and just before Frost picked up the bottle she had brought over and left.

If he was good, he could follow Lehnsherr without catching Frost’s attention. It was possible, especially as she was chatting up the bartender. He walked to the elevators just as one of them opened, and let Lehnsherr step into that one - noting, of course, that Lehnsherr hit "7" before he mumbled something indistinct and walked away from the oblivious man.

After a minute, Wade hurried back to the elevators and followed Lehnsherr up, only hoping that he was not going to tumble right out at the man's feet.

He got onto the seventh floor just in time to spot Lehnsherr move toward a door that had been left ajar. Lehnsherr kept looking over his shoulder as he went, but he was quick about it and he soon entered that room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Wade followed and tried, as best he could, to stand by the door without making a sound to catch the conversation in the room. It was not so much a conversation as it was a series of grunts and moans, with the occasional sound of a hand slamming against the door before the sounds retreated further into the room.

This was _good_ , Wade thought. Lehnsherr might not have been as clean as everyone else had imagined.

Wade could use it. Stryker could _really_ use it. He smirked as he tried to make out the sounds in the room, but all he could hear were more grunts and a few heavy thuds of the headboard.

A quick text to Stryker was all he could do right now, but Wade figured it would be enough. Lehnsherr was not as pure as the driven snow, and with a little help from downstairs, Wade might even know who Lehnsherr had been making out with.

That would be perfect.

-

“People never lie so much as after a hunt, during a war or before an election.” 

Otto von Bismarck

-

_February 25, 2012_

Despite what he knew the popular media was saying, Erik had been working hard to court votes from everywhere, even if he had created a party and secured a nomination as a third party candidate. It was not enough to just have mutant support for a mutant candidate, but it was essential that the Democrats would support him, just as much as he wanted the independents and moderate Republicans to support him as well.

He had grown tired of speaking to every sort of group possible across the country for the sake of a few more votes, but given the history of third-party candidates actually winning, it was a necessity, especially after he secured his nomination and was running against Stryker and Worthington for sure. He needed to peel off votes from both sides as soon as he could and keep them through November.

At least everyone who had been part of campaign had told him so. Emma just sat there and looked important and shuffled him from event to event and then into a car between them, while those who she had recruited shouted at staffers in the office and rewrote parts of his remarks.

Charles had had to back off attending everything that Erik was doing on the campaign, though it was not because he was uninterested. The problem was, Charles’ editors were not interested in a blow-by-blow account of the campaign trail.

There were enough reporters for that around. But Charles had yet to disappear entirely; he just kept his distance from many campaign events, staying back at the office to talk to the staff. Erik assumed that Charles was finding out about how the staff thought of Erik and what his campaign meant to them, but he had never asked Charles when time presented itself.

Erik still had yet to read any of what Charles had written, but Emma had never said anything to suggest that the pieces were doing anything to hurt the campaign. If anything, they were making it easier for Erik to have name recognition as he stumped around the country speaking to more and more people.

It did not stop Erik from wishing that he could have another night with Charles--a long night to lose himself in the body of another man and not be worried about the latest polling numbers or how quickly he needed to change his shirt and remember innate details for some donor on the campaign trail.

If anything, the campaign made him want Charles all the more, as a respite from a storm swirling all around him.

-

“As societies grow decadent, the language grows decadent, too. Words are used to disguise, not to illuminate, action: you liberate a city by destroying it. Words are to confuse, so that at election time people will solemnly vote against their own interests.” 

Gore Vidal

-

 _February 28, 2012_  
Wade hated that he had to get Stryker to talk about _issues_ that were not directly related to mutants and why they were not fit for public office.

But fuck it all, Lehnsherr had kept talking about things that seemed to be resonating with people. Lehnsherr had been gaining more and more support in polls, even as a third-party candidate.

So, Stryker had to say something about his policies for veterans, and on how to keep the country from falling into yet another financial crisis. Not that Wade knew Stryker had an opinion on that most of the time.

He usually just spoke out against mutants and that was enough.

Not this time.

“Sir, the stump’s on the teleprompter for you. Just remember you have three minutes to rail against mutants before you need to hit the stump. You need to hit it real hard, sir.”

Stryker waved him off with a hand and went back to his fifth cup of coffee.

“Whatever, Wilson. This crowd seems to be pretty much like us. I’ll go for five.”

*

A dumbfounded Hank stared blankly at the latest polling numbers. Even as the incumbent (or quasi-incumbent), Warren was doing poorly.

It was not that Hank had yet to figure out where Warren was failing; but more than that, it seemed that Warren was failing on principle and nothing else.

Having Erik Lehnsherr in the campaign had been less than ideal, especially given how much more time he had had in the field before Warren had even said he was running after Wyngarde said he was not.

Warren was the sort of candidate that just was there. He said all the right things, but did little to make an impression aside from how large his wingspan was.

That had not mattered before, but now it seemed that Lehnsherr’s ideas about running on issues had been taken as the standard. It did little good to attack Lehnsherr for being anti-mutant, and it seemed that even with Stryker in the race, it was now about mutants and not mutants.

The new campaign strategies made this all so much worse.

“Mr. Vice President,” Hank said as he knocked on the door in the plane, “we land in South Carolina in a few minutes. We have the speech ready for you if you want to read it before it’s sent to the ‘prompter.”

A grunt came from through the door before Hank thought to open it. “What was that, sir?”

“I said, give it here.”

Hank carefully passed it over and then kept his distance. Best to let Warren read the speech without making a fuss about the reasons why the speech was heavy on policy and light on the personal.

-

“Why has government been instituted at all? Because the passions of men will not conform to the dictates of reason and justice without constraint. Has it been found that bodies of men act with more rectitude or greater disinterestedness than individuals? The contrary of this has been inferred by all accurate observers of the conduct of mankind; and the inference is founded upon obvious reasons. Regard to reputation has a less active influence when the infamy of a bad action is to be divided among a number than when it is to fall singly upon one.” 

Alexander Hamilton, _Federalist 15_

-

_February 29, 2012_

Charles was grateful that the campaign was moving along, even though it had been a long year watching Erik work. He still wanted to watch Erik at work, but he could not deny that more often than not, he wanted to get to the campaign’s hotel so that he and Erik could be together for another night.

That, he knew, had been happening more and more often. Erik would mentally ask for Charles’ room and show up when he was sure that no one else was in the hallways. It had helped that Charles had managed to keep his room away from everyone else on staff, but not so out of the way that Erik looked out of place, roaming the halls of a hotel that everyone in town knew his staff was not using.

It was hard to say no, though, now that he had been with Erik. Erik was more than charismatic for the public, but that was nothing to his ability to completely undo Charles each and every night they were together. Erik all but worshipped Charles, every meeting a slow burn that started with frantic kisses before evolving into kinetics that brought each of them off with muffled screams.

Just thinking about what Erik had done a week ago was enough to set Charles off, just as Erik had asked what time would work to meet.

Charles had wanted to say _now_ , but there were a few emails he had avoided in the last few days from Scott and Logan, worrying about the tone of the pieces Charles had sent in. He told Erik to wait an hour so he could work. It was time he focused on how to codify the last few days into a his piece and also write back to Scott and Logan.

Now that Charles was intimately familiar with Erik, it had been damn hard to let what he knew of Erik’s bedroom persona creep out into how Charles viewed his public persona. True to what Erik had said nearly seven months ago, he still was a private man who said nothing about his love life when asked, but knowing how strongly Erik cared for and about Charles was hard to ignore when Erik had spent five minutes talking to an elderly woman on the rope line about how the CPI should not be readjusted because she already had enough trouble making ends meet each month on her Social Security alone. It was clear that Erik’s passion for everyone applied to strangers as those who knew intimately.

Charles thought about that as he looked at what Scott and Logan were sending him from New York this time. Not that he was unaware of their complaints. It had been the same for the last six weeks, just as he and Erik had started to find each other in bed more often.

The tone had shifted, but that should have happened to anyone who had spent more than a few months with the campaign. Without taking Charles out of the picture entirely, it was reasonable, he hoped, that the tone had shifted without revealing what was going on between he and Erik. Journalistic integrity was one thing, but at this point he felt as if he was another extension of Erik’s campaign and not a wholly objective bystander, which was complicating the pieces as Scott and Logan had wanted them written.

That was their point, though.

Charles huffed in frustration, and tried to say, as civilly as he could, that they should have thought that through before they had him following Erik’s campaign around for so long. It was their own damn fault.

He rolled his shoulders at the pent up frustration, trying to relieve just a bit of it before Erik arrived. It did him little good, but perhaps Erik could help work that out before they were too busy to talk.

The emails had taken no time at all, but Charles knew better than to change the time for one of their meetings. It looked awkward enough for Erik to leave the office before everyone else, especially now, but he found a way to beg for a little more sleep on certain nights.

Everyone in the office, at least to Charles’ knowledge, took Erik’s early departures as a strange affectation that Erik had grown into while busy on the campaign. Charles always smiled at it, made a note and let it casually drop into one piece.

However, in the meantime, Charles paced, still annoyed at the email from Scott and Logan about the whole thing. By the time Erik knocked, Charles felt as though he had worn a hole into the hotel’s carpet.

Charles quickly went to open the door and barely had the door open an inch before Erik’s lips were against his throat.

 _I couldn’t wait any longer_ , Erik said as he started to pull Charles’ shirt out of his slacks.

Charles only groaned into the touch, forgetting everything that had just set him off before.

Erik stopped when Charles made no verbal response, looking concerned. “What happened?” he asked as he stroked his thumb over Charles’ cheek.

“Just a bad email from Scott and Logan. Forget about it.”

“I’d like to,” Erik started, “but you’re not here.” He punctuated that by drawing Charles’ hand over his own chest. Charles could only gulp in response.

“Can we start over?” he tried. “I’m glad you’re here now, trust me, but I need to escape for a bit.”

Erik nodded, but made no attempt to go back to kissing Charles. He did stay within Charles’ space before he said anything. "Why don't you take your frustrations on me?" he whispered. “You know how often my time with you clears my head after a long day.”

Charles nodded, fully aware of how much this relationship was not just about feelings, but necessity and a need to be someone else for a few hours.

“I,” he paused. “I don’t want to do that to you.”

“You’re not doing anything to me. You’re taking what you need today.” Erik went back to sucking gently against Charles’ throat as if to prove the point.

Charles gave in to the feeling of Erik working him up, trying to touch him in all the ways that made Charles weak in the knees.

They never left the small foyer of the hotel room, the two of them against the wall next to the bathroom before Charles rolled his hips in response to Erik’s kisses and bites against Charles’ neck.

“What do you need?” Erik asked, as if this time, it was all about Charles. If Charles wanted to investigate that idea, it died just as Erik’s hand came under the slacks and palmed at Charles’ growing erection.

Charles tried to steady his heart, but gave up before saying, “You, against the wall.”

Erik backed off, just a little, so that he could look at Charles. “You sure?”

Charles nodded, feeling like he had a plan of attack to work out his frustrations at Scott and Logan while also giving Erik what he wanted.

Erik, who was always in control on the campaign now, let himself be vulnerable with Charles. Only with him.

It was enough for Charles to start and move them from the wall by the bathroom door to the one to their right on the other side. Erik’s back was against the wall now, and Charles urged himself forward, giving into the need to kiss Erik as much as possible.

He was content to focus on kissing Erik--marking him where no one would notice the next day--content to bring Erik off without trying. It was a heady feeling to come undone as he was just with frenzied kisses and quick thrusts, and it spurred him on, trying to chase the euphoric combination of lust and want.

Erik moaned as he spread his legs wider, nearly enough to wrap himself around Charles.

“Not tonight,” Charles said as he realized what Erik had been doing. “You’re still too dressed for this,” he added coyly.

“So are you,” Erik said as a small smirk appeared.

“Then we should fix that,” Charles replied before his hands were at Erik’s belt and fly.

Erik laughed quietly as Charles’ fingers undid the belt buckle and the button and fly on Erik’s slacks. As soon as Erik’s trousers were in a wrinkled heap at his ankles, he stepped out of them, kicked off his shoes and socks and all but ripped the buttons off his shirt before Charles knew what to say.

“Eager are we?” Charles asked.

“Not as such, but I thought you might like a show instead.” He winked, and Charles felt himself harden against the fly of his slacks.

“Then proceed,” Charles said back as he moved back to the bed. He watched Erik walk into the bathroom, already knowing where Charles kept his lube and condoms. As he heard Erik searching in his travel bag, Charles tried to get undressed. He stumbled with the buttons, before he managed to get them all undone, fumbling out of his khakis and shirt as if he were an out of control teenager, eager for his first blowjob.

By the time Erik returned from the bathroom, Charles sat in his boxers, his erection evident.

Erik simply nodded before he looked around the room for a place to get himself ready. “Do you mind?” he asked looking at the bed, but Charles shook his head no and nodded towards the floor.

Erik said nothing, but laid himself against the floor with his feet on the ground and his hips spread wide. It took a minute for the lube bottle to pop, and then Charles watched from above as Erik worked one finger against himself, moaning and grinding as he went.

“G-d Charles,” Erik managed as he added a second finger.

“Not yet, you’re not ready,” Charles said, even though he watched Erik's erection growing red and leaking against his stomach.

Erik worked another finger in a few minutes later, just as Charles started to work his own erection in his hand. He felt like a voyeur, watching as Erik nearly got himself off, but as he watched Erik work, he forgot about everything else in their world. There was no election and they were just two men who needed release.

Charles pushed himself off the bed and pulled his boxers off just as Erik looked like he was ready to come. “Can you stand?” he asked before moved to offer Erik a hand off the floor.

Erik barely heard it before he looked up to see Charles standing above him and only then did Erik stop and grab onto Charles’ hands.

“Against the wall,” Charles said once Erik seemed to have regained his footing and as Erik moved back against the wall, Charles picked up the condom and lube from the floor.

The packet opened quickly and Charles rolled it on with ease before he put lube into his palm and coated himself, while he heard Erik’s back hit the wall with a thud.

“Other way,” Charles said, though he would like to watch as he worked Erik over. Perhaps another time.

Erik complied and turned so his back was to Charles just as Charles moved to position himself against Erik.

“Wider,” Charles said as he looked at Erik’s ass and the lean lines of his back. Erik’s feet moved apart just as Charles slowly pushed in. Erik’s moan was louder than normal, but Charles paid no attention, focusing himself on moving into Erik, slowing giving them each time to adjust.

“Wonderful,” was all Charles could said by the time he finally pushed all the way in. Erik’s moans had continued and were nearly incomprehensible gibberish when Charles pulled out.

He pushed back in and lost himself into the feel of the two of them together like this.

*

The sounds coming from the room next door sounded far better than anything that the hotel's "adult entertainment" had to offer, and for that, Wade was glad. He had been spending far too much trying to suss out who Lehnsherr had always been going to, but he finally had all the pieces in place.

That damned Xavier, was sleeping with Lehnsherr.

This was going to make everything better. With a scandal like this Lehnsherr's numbers had nowhere to go but down. No matter what was going on, it was beyond stupid to sleep with the man writing the fluff pieces about him, and everything that Stryker had been saying about how mutants were not cut out for the public lives of civil servants would be confirmed.

It was almost too perfect for Wade to imagine.

-

_March 3, 2012_

 

Wade hated that Stryker had suggested that they hold off on the information about Lehnsherr and Xavier until later, but followed his boss as best he could. They were already past Iowa and New Hampshire and almost to Super Tuesday, but there were still months to go in the entire process and leaking the story at the wrong moment could backfire on Stryker’s entire campaign.

Super Tuesday was around the corner, though, and Wade’s eyes went wide at the mere thought of sending this story to Fox News on later that night in hopes of tanking Lehnsherr's chances for victory the next week.

If the news of Lehnsherr being gay _and_ sleeping with the man who was chronicling his campaign made it out into the media, maybe it would just push support to Worthington. He was someone whom Stryker could defeat. Easily, in fact.

It had always been Lehnsherr as the challenge and now that challenge would be nothing but a disgraced interest group head with delusions of grandeur that caught up to him.

Poetic. Almost.

*

“I can’t believe it!” Emma’s phone had been buzzing for hours on a Saturday night during their latest rally in Boston and had not stopped as soon as she made it into her hotel room.

“Whatever this is, it better be fucking important!” she yelled, not that anyone heard her.

Her eyes adjusted to the contrast of her iPhone against the darkness of her room as she read the sixteen text messages that had arrived.

“Oh. Oh _fuck_!”

-

“As there is a degree of depravity in mankind which requires a certain degree of circumspection and distrust, so there are other qualities in human nature which justify a certain portion of esteem and confidence. Republican government presupposes the existence of these qualities in a higher degree than any other form.” 

Alexander Hamilton, _Federalist 55_

-

_March 4, 2012_

The entire office in Boston had been up since Emma had mentally woken everyone else with her wrath. They had hours before all of the Sunday shows would lead with the story, the only saving grace being the story broke too late on Saturday for anyone to run with it.

A defeated Erik sat silently in his make-shift office, while around him everyone else moved slowly, as though the world was coming to an end. Maybe it was.

There was no way to deny what someone in Stryker’s office had seen, but he wished that he could. Just to have three more days to fight for people, to fight for Charles’ affection.

But that seemed nothing more than a pipe dream, now.

A knock at his door startled him neatly out of his reverie. Donna walked in with something in her hands. “Take a look at this for _Meet the Press_ and then we’ll find a few other staffers to say it across _Capital Beat_ and the rest of them.”

He nodded and looked at the words in front of him:

> I will not apologize for what I had done with Charles Xavier. It was consensual and neither of us regret the time we spent together. I only regret that anyone found out because my private life had always been that--private.
> 
> I have been out to my family since just after September 11, 2001, when the world was too confused to waste time on hiding who I am from those who I could have lost to terror.
> 
> It is irrelevant to ask about when our relationship began, as it is irrelevant to ask whether that relationship played a role in the work that Xavier did for _The New York Times_.

It was not exactly how Erik had hoped to end this campaign, but it was the least offensive thing they had sent to him so far.

“It’s fine,” he said, as he let the pages drop to his desk.

T.S. Eliot had had it all wrong with how the world ends. Erik was not going out with a whimper - he was going out with a bang.

*

Erik looked at the green light in the room and tried to smile, as David Gregory and his guests looked on.

He started to read from his statement and just before it was over, he paused.

“David, I was supposed to stop there, but I want to make one thing very clear to the American public. This sort of ‘scandal’ is nothing but a ploy by a segment of the population to force their morals, their agenda, to the rest of us. It is narrow-minded people who fought against desegregation, just as there are narrow-minded people who hate everyone who can't be forced into a box as simple as white or black, man or woman.

“I will not be put into a box as an ‘other’ because I'm gay, because I'm a mutant. I didn't stand for that when I founded the MRC while in high school, and I won't hide it now. I will not apologize for being a gay mutant, nor should I. I am a man, a man who enjoys the company of other men, and I am a man who can control and manipulate metal and magnetic fields.

“What you have learned about me should not change how I might run this country. I hope that it will not. If after today you think that I am still the best candidate for president, then vote for me on Tuesday. But don't hide behind the ignominious tactics of a man so scared by mutants, by anything outside his safe little heteronormative box, that he sent a man to spy on me.

“Don't let fear win.

“Thank you.”

Erik adjusted his tie, trying to calm down as he waited for Gregory to start speaking again. It took a moment before the segment ended and Erik knew that he would face Emma’s, and possibly Charles’, ire.

That would be worth it, just to shove this whole ‘scandal’ back into Stryker’s face.

-

“If the representatives of the people betray their constituents, there is then no resource left but in the exertion of that original right of self-defense which is paramount to all positive forms of government.” 

Alexander Hamilton, _Federalist 28_

-

_March 5, 2012_

There was no way for Charles to quietly walk into his office. At least not without the building erupting in something resembling the apocalypse. Scott and Logan were each livid in their emails on Sunday morning, especially since the paper had gotten scooped, literally, by every other possible source.

But that meant that he could look as dejected as he felt and everyone else would leave him alone. Everyone, except Scott and Logan, who were waiting in Charles’ office.

“Can’t I at least get a cup of coffee first?” he asked.

Logan shot him a look that would be deadly on the best of days. Today, however, it looked like it could level Manhattan. “Take a seat, bub,” he said instead.

Charles looked to see where, before he gave up on the pretense. “That’s not possible and before you even start, I’m dropping the story. Going on leave. Whatever the hell you need me to do so that this will be behind us all after November. I refuse to be the man who killed a politician's career just by publishing a tell-all of our time together and I don’t care if it will get us another million unit hits on the web and another twenty thousand in hard copies.”

“You might have already killed his chances, Charles,” Scott said. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking behind the ever-present red glasses, and that, Charles thought, was one of the reasons why Scott was one of the paper's most esteemed and most unflappable editors.

“Regardless. I will not be here when you write the follow-up pieces. I will be going on leave, and I am taking all the time I've got saved up. It's just sitting there anyway.” Charles waved a hand and started to walk out of his office.

Logan shouted something at him, but Charles paid him no attention.

He had to at least find Erik now that the dust was settling and tell him that the paper would not get a tell-out out of him.

That was the least he could do.

He walked to the Lehnsherr storefront in mid-town, hoping that he could catch Erik there, as he was positive there had been some press release that the Lehnsherr Campaign had suspended campaigning for a few days. The campaign had all but stopped dead over the weekend, he knew, and it might not pick back up after tomorrow, depending on the results.

It was eerily quiet as he came in, pushing past the assembled staff, meager as they were. Everyone seemed to be watching him.

No one said anything as he walked towards the back. They had no reason to as they all could guess that Charles was headed for one person and one person only.

*

Erik’s call sheet was nearly as long as some horrible email he had been forwarded in his first year of Wes, but he had nothing else to do but call back big donors to thank them for their contributions to his campaign and hope that their money had not been wasted at this point.

He was only three calls in when he could swear that something in the room had changed, that all the conversations had taken on a slightly different tone. Emma was out to lunch with all of the hired staff, hoping that they had one last big idea to save the whole campaign, so it was not her.

That meant that only one other person could be in the office. Erik’s breath caught in his throat at having to see Charles again, so soon after the news had broken.

There was little he could do now with Charles fifteen feet away and closing closer.

 _Just come in when you want. I have to make a call_ , he said before he picked up the phone.

Charles opened the door quietly and sat in the chair opposite Erik’s own. Erik felt the shuffle of Charles’ shoes as he talked for five minutes before hanging up.

“These calls are the worst,” he said, apropos of nothing, but he needed to get something out or else he would forget to say anything at all.

“I can only imagine. You know,” Charles started.

“Save it. It wasn’t your fault. Or mine. It just was what it was. All we can do is see how the people react on tomorrow and go from there.”

“I took leave from the paper. I won’t help them write anything about us.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did it for me, and a bit for you. But mostly for me,” Charles said.

“Thank you.”

Erik looked away from Charles, hoping that this moment would not turn into something awkward.

“Since I’m out of a job for right now, I thought,” Charles said before Erik lost the ability to pay attention to the words.

Charles continued speaking, but Erik had no clue what was being said. It might have been better that way.

*

Charles had repeated himself at least seven times before he was sure that Erik heard, and understood, his words.

“Say it one more time,” Erik said, confusion overwriting the lines in his face.

“I said, I’d like to work for you on the campaign. I think that I've been following you around long enough to have an idea of what to do.”

“You have no experience.”

“Neither did you until you ran. I’m sure that Emma or Josh and Donna can find something for me to do. You don’t have a mutant outreach office.”

“I’m think I’m pretty okay with that office as is.”

Charles laughed a bit at how easily Erik had turned back to jokes. “Suit yourself.”

“Well, if I wanted to suit myself, I’d do something different.” Charles gave him a quizzical look before Erik continued. “As much as I think you want to help on the campaign trail, I’d rather you didn’t.”

Charles sat there, impassive. Inside, though, his guts twisted as though he had just watched Erik kick a kitten.

“No, not like that, Charles. The offices are already filled with volunteers and paid staff. I don't need any more of them. But I do need you. As my boyfriend.”

The noise that Charles made was not at all dignified, and he cared little for it. “Say that again?” he asked, wanting confirmation.

“I thought you’d be a good boyfriend. I’m sure that the office caught on months ago.”

Charles laughed at the thought of being the least-well-kept secret in the offices, and let it bubble up.

“You realize we did this backwards, right?”

“I think you knew that after our first meeting when I thought about sleeping with you,” Erik said.

Charles stood up and moved over to Erik’s side of the desk. “Well, why don’t we go back to that memory then,” he said before he kissed Erik for the first time in what felt like weeks.

-

“I try not to tune in to politics until it's two or three months before the election. Till then, it's like watching preseason football.” 

Trey Parker

-

_July 22, 2012_

Such as this nominating convention was, Erik looked out at the arena and smiled. The floor was packed with members of his newly-formed party, men and women from all over the country, and they were all standing and cheering for him as Emma read out the party's political platform.

This was just a formality - there was little need for a nominating convention with a party as small as his was. It was more for the benefit of the newspeople who had watched, some of them incredulously, as Erik's popularity had actually soared after the scandal before Super Tuesday--but it was an important step in what Erik hoped would be something much bigger in four years.

In nearly eighteen months, he had gone from a man content to run an interest group to a man who had a sixty-eight percent chance of winning the election. It was nearly too much to process.

A warm hand came to rest on the small of his back as Erik listened to Emma who was looking for confirmation that the delegates, such as they were, agreed to the platform. “You looked lost,” Charles said.

“Not lost. Just thinking back to where it started.”

“Don’t waste too much time thinking on that. Your mother sent me down. She’s nervous before she has to go on.”

“She’ll be fine, but tell her I’ll be up in five.”

“Sure,” Charles said as he kissed one of Erik’s cheeks. “I’ll force you up if I don’t see you in seven.”

Erik smiled and went back to looking at the floor as he felt Charles leaving the wide space around him.

-

_November 6, 2012_

In the suite, all of Erik’s staffers hung around the LED televisions. They were transfixed, and many of them were glassy-eyed in the process.

Not that Charles could blame them for it.

It was difficult to put the last four months in the right perspective, but as everything had settled and it had begun to appear as though this was going to be a serious three-man race, the world outside of stump speeches, travel plans and hotels had not existed.

This was the last night, potentially of running around asking about polling data and testing speeches on focus groups, all of which Charles was grateful for.

The campaign had been amazing and completely exhausting. Erik had been running on Red Bull since the nomination and even today as they woke up in their new shared apartment, Erik reached for an aluminum can without thinking.

One large clock in the room clicked from 10:59 to 11:00 and all of the eyes focused on a television.

Will McAvoy was looking at some sheets of paper before he spoke. “We have preliminary numbers from the West Coast. California, as it has since July, is leading for Lehnsherr. That would be nearly enough to push him towards 270. Stay tuned to _The Newsroom_ and ACN’s continued coverage of Election 2012.”

Charles’ breath caught before he found Erik in between Josh and Charlie. Erik gave a small smile, one that was half grin and half of his confused grouse.

It was enough for Charles to know that in a moment like this, Erik needed another hand to grasp.

-

_January 21, 2013_

It was nearly too cold for her pea coat. She felt the chill in her bones as she looked out against the millions of people all along the streets.

He had said that she needed a new coat, but as always, she refused him. He had been through more than enough in two years to worry about her. That was her job.

Now, just this once, she wished that she had given into his entreaties. She would have felt so much warmer in something like Ms Frost was wearing, a white fur nearly as perfect as the patches of snow that were in her front yard in Brooklyn.

As she kept staring out at the street and wished for a better coat, a young man walked up to her. “It’s time to take your seat Mrs. Lehnsherr. The ceremony will begin soon and you’ll need to be in place for the cameras.”

“Of course, dear. Just let me get Max and Jakob.”

“Someone else has found them already. They’re on their way.”

“Oh. Right. Then please lead the way. I've been nothing but confused here today.”

“No problem, ma’am.”

She took the man's arm and let herself be led from the open space of the Capitol and out onto the grandstand. They passed Erik and Charles, the pair fussing over scarves and gloves, before the January air hit her full force.

Now she wished that Erik’s speech would be short. She had no idea how long she could sit outside in this chill.

Though she wondered if this speech, or its length, would matter, in the long run. She had been there yesterday, watching intently as Erik took the oath of office in that small private ceremony.

This, the public version, was to be a demonstration of what the world could expect from the Lehnsherr White House.

This was the start of four--no, eight--years of what could be accomplished with new leadership that had no ties to the past. Only hope for the future.

-

_March 21, 2013_

It amazed Charles, as he looked at the menu in front of him, how he was the one to make sure that the preparations for First Seder were going as planned. Judaism was not his religion, but then he remembered that Erik would not have the luxury to make sure that the kitchen was perfectly cleaned and prepared before Saturday night.

Erik had a country to run. That idea still made Charles smile.

The menu had seemed to be in order. Edie had sent him an email with all the details: the things that needed to be with the table settings, the things that needed to be on the Seder plate, and the actual dinner itself. But that was so Charles could feel at ease, feel that everything was proceeding well, when he had to walk into the kitchen and check that everything was as it should be.

There were specific instructions to look at the lamb shank, but Charles had put enough trust in the White House chefs before to know that he had nothing to worry about when it came to the specificity of preparing a Kosher meal.

At least not until they sat down for Seder.

With Erik as the first Jewish president, Kitty, his Press Secretary, had made a point of inviting the entire Press Corps into watching the guests sit through Seder dinner, as a celebration of Erik’s actual traditions instead of just being culturally literate as had been done under Santos’ and Wyngarde’s administrations. It was so much more than just Erik’s family and friends because of Kitty’s insistence on raising more awareness of Erik’s background.

Charles pushed that thought aside and shifted his attention to the seating chart. That was something he had become better at organizing in his first two months in the White House. Despite the fact that he and Erik were still only dating, Charles had become the de facto First Gentleman, which meant that for things like this, he was in charge.

The list had started out with six people plus him and Erik. That was not going to be enough for the Press Corps to photograph. So it was an easy decision to invite the staff from the West Wing, as well as a few of the top Cabinet officials - that would round out the party properly. It still felt as though it was missing something, but as soon as he stopped thinking of everyone in the building and the Beltway, Charles remembered that Josh and Donna would like to come.

Seven Jewish guests seemed better at this dinner than just five.

As he looked at the list once more, the door to his office opened and Erik walked in.

“Busy?” he asked.

“Never for you,” Charles said, standing to meet Erik by the door. “I was just going over the Seder invitees. I hope the staff doesn’t mind a last minute invitation thanks to Kitty’s decision to have a photo spray at the start.”

“I’m sure they’ll be thrilled. I know I can’t wait to see John’s reactions to matzah ball soup.”

Charles giggled at the idea of it. John was the least creative person when it came to food, and to force him into a night without a beer or burger was going to be worth the craziness of the last few days.

“Mishegoss,” Erik said. “If you want to say it in Yiddish.”

“Was I projecting that much?”

“Not much, but I was probably having a similar mental image about John and dinner. It was the word that came to my mind.”

Charles smiled at Erik and leaned into a kiss. Just a simple press of lips after a long day away from each other. It was what they had time for these days, but they were just as special to Charles as the first time they had kissed. If he was lucky, he could get Erik into bed before midnight and not just fall into bed together, exhausted.

“Now, you’re projecting,” Erik said as he pulled away from Charles. “But I like how you think. Can we table that for another hour, though. I still have to finish up in the Oval with Emma.”

“Of course. I’m done now, so I can go up to the residence and get us something to eat before you're done.”

“So long as it involves pasta, I won’t mind.”

“You've got yourself a deal,” Charles said before he turned Erik around and patted him on the ass to get out of the First Gentleman’s office.

Erik’s laugh down the hall was all Charles needed to feel at ease. It never failed to remind Charles of what they had worked towards, what they had both been through, to get here.

**Author's Note:**

> Any quotes from real people were taken from here.  
>  Federalist Papers quotes.  
>  Any Yiddish was taken from here. For the sake of convenience, here’s the quick glossary:
> 
> farkatke - full of shit  
> mame - mother  
> zayde - grandfather  
> zuninkeh - my darling boy!  
> mishegoss - craziness

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Please Shut Up (Sir)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3305243) by [hereweshallmeetagain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereweshallmeetagain/pseuds/hereweshallmeetagain)




End file.
